Infamy
by Poledra182
Summary: "Maya told me once that it didn't matter how much you tried to atone for your mistakes, the world would always remember you by your sins." What does a model, a princess, a photographer, a Buddhist, and The Vice-President of the United States have in common? They're all going to the same funeral.
1. Episode One: Pilot

**Before you start reading:**

 **You know those ideas that come to you and won't leave you alone? October of last year, I was doing clinical rotations at a hospital to get certified as a nursing assistant. It required that I get up ridiculously early in the morning and I like to be early, so I was showing up long before the sun came up and it was usually just me and my clinical instructor for an awkward amount of time. One day, I picked up a magazine that was sitting on the table next to me and started flipping through it. It was clearly targeted for a much younger age demographic then I'm in and isn't something that I would normally get into, but I stumbled upon an article that was an interview for a Youtuber and they talked about how they have millions of followers, but they spend a lot of the time feeling alone. And, then, proceeded to give tips on how to develop your own Youtube channel and following. And, it hit me, that, not only do we live in an age where everyone is basing their worth off of the number of likes they can get on a photo, but everyone wants to document their lives in a very public way. And, how much happiness does that actually bring? It planted the seed for this story, which has grown and been something that I've been working off-and-on for months.**

 **I went through a period in my teens, where I was completely obsessed with Princess Diana. She had died at that point, but I was captivated with her story and the conspiracy theories surrounding her death, which is something that I've really pulled from for this story. It's darker then anything else that I've written on this site, though it will not be going beyond it's PG-13 rating.**

 **My original intent was to complete _Heat Stroke_ and _Laws of Timing_ before I posted this and then I thought that maybe I could trim this story into a one-shot, but there was no way that it was going to fit into _Between the Raindrops_ because it covers a lot more then just Riley and Lucas. And, when it comes down to it, to tell the story that I'm interested in telling, it's going to require that I flesh out the plot and develop the characters.**

 **THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART: I've set up this story like a television series, so each chapter is an episode. I'm going to release the first chapter, now, to see what interest there is in the story before I continue to devote a ton of my time to it because it's not my only project that's in the works. So, if it's something that you'd like to see continued, please let me know, otherwise, I'm going to move onto something else.**

* * *

 _in·fa·my_

 _noun_

 _the state of being well known for some bad quality or deed._

 _"a day that will live in infamy"_

Perfume hung like fog over the coat room and Riley felt like she just might suffocate, as she was helped out of her silk wrap. Her body hummed with nerves and she knew that she was fidgeting more than normal, but she couldn't escape the fear inside of her and the overwhelming sense that something was off.

"You look stunning," he whispered, gently, into her ear and Riley forced a smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

"I'm going to stop at the bathroom for a minute, I'll meet you out there," Riley replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the ballroom that appeared to be cluttered with people in similar attire.

"Alright," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth, before he moved along, his security detail maintaining a reasonable distance behind him.

"You've got my file," Riley questioned the bodyguard that was assigned to her and Tessa pulled it out of her suit jacket, handing it along to Riley.

"Are you sure about this?" Tessa questioned, following Riley along the hallway, which became darker the farther they drifted from the party.

"Not at all," Riley replied, pressing a hand to her fluttering stomach, as they paused in front of the office she had been looking for. A light peaked out from under the door and Riley's hand shook as she reached up to knock.

"I thought you might have gotten cold feet," a voice greeted her, pulling open the door and ushering both Riley and Tessa into the office.

"I was going to back out," Riley admitted, sinking into one of the office chairs, "But then I heard about the movie that's in production. Just when you think that things might have finally died down, they just drag it back up again."

"You should know that Maya isn't going to be the center of this story. I want to talk about _you_ ; your friendship with Maya Hart, your time in politics, your relationship with your ex-husband. Maya's story has been told a million times in a dozen different ways, but you've lived such a public life and no one really knows who you are, beyond your saint-like image," Kendall leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing her high heeled feet at the ankles.

"Maya told me once that it didn't matter how much you tried to atone for your mistakes, the world would always remember you by your sins," Riley stared intently at the tiled floor, "But whatever mistakes I've made, people have always just explained them away. I want to set the record straight about Maya, but I, also, want to be remembered as a whole, as someone who made mistakes, but also did good, as someone who was human."

"We're going to make enemies. This could completely ruin your ex-husband's presidential campaign, not to mention how your fiancé and his family are going to take this," Kendall warned her.

"I'll handle the fallout, but I have to do this, for Maya. I owe her that much," Riley sighed, looking up, "I brought some pictures."

Riley opened the file, pausing as she caught a picture of herself, leaning carelessly against a balcony. Her hair was whipping around in the wind and her mascara was smudged under her eyes, but her smile was genuine. It had been taken by her first husband and he'd captured her so completely that she'd kept it tucked away in her jewelry box for years after. At first, as a reminder that he found her beautiful however she looked, and later, as a reminder of who they'd once been.

"I'll want to do interviews, going back to the beginning," Kendall mused, her eyes looking hungrily at Riley's private photos, and for a second Riley wished she could snatch them away and return them back to where they'd come from.

"I'm very carefully monitored, as I'm sure you can imagine," Riley replied, sending a smile at Tessa, who was watching in silence from the corner.

"Of course, but I'm hopeful that we can work something out," Kendall pressed on and Riley gave a nod.

The sound of Tessa's phone ringing interrupted the conversation and Riley watched as the blonde bodyguard pulled out the device and answered. She listened to something on the other end for a moment and Riley knew the woman well enough to know that something was wrong.

"We're going to have to cut this short," Tessa ended the call, shoving the phone back into her pocket.

"Is something wrong?" Kendall questioned, her eyes flickering between Riley and Tessa in confusion.

"They're looking for you," Tessa informed Riley and Riley was out of her seat without consciously having made the decision to stand up.

"I'll be in touch," Riley promised, reluctantly handing over the file of pictures.

"I'll be looking forward to it," Kendall returned, as Tessa guided Riley out of the office and out into the main hallway.

"What's going on?" Riley demanded, as soon as they were a good distance from the office.

"The media has just picked up on a report that concerns you," Tessa replied, leaving Riley with more questions than answers.

They were back in the main hallway and Riley saw her fiancé coming out of the ballroom and rushing towards her.

"Does she know?" he turned his attention to Tessa and Tessa gave a quick shake of her head.

"Did something happen?" Riley questioned him, her eyes noticing the somber looks on the faces of everyone that was surrounding her.

"I'll tell you in the car," her fiancé decided, latching onto her arm and leading her in the direction of the main doors.

* * *

Riley was vaguely aware of Tessa pausing to collect Riley's wrap and her fiancé's security detail, closing ranks around the couple, as they descended the red carpeted steps, but her mind was already playing through a million different scenarios of what could have caused them to leave the gala early.

Lights flashed in her face, as the press snapped photos, eager at the new development. However, Riley was sure that most of them would be obscured by the people in suits that surrounded them and ushered them into the black SUV that waited for them at the curb.

They were already pulling out into traffic before Riley had collected herself enough to press for answers, "You're worrying me."

"I'm just not sure how to tell you this," he admitted, his thumb running along her knuckles.

"Is it something with your family? Has there been a threat?" Riley pressed, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"No, this doesn't have anything to do with me," he admitted, his gaze fixated on the passing buildings outside of the car windows.

"My family?" Riley questioned, numbly, leaning back in her seat.

"I don't have anything concrete, but some American magazines are claiming that Maya Hart was rushed to the hospital a few hours ago," he said, quietly, and Riley's world ceased spinning.

 _It all starts with a plane crash; one of those off the coast, crashes where they find most of the wreckage and none of the bodies. It's a private plane, the list of people on board doesn't amount to more than seven, but it gets picked up by worldwide news agencies and spoken about for weeks after. Probably because of the people who happen to be on board._

 _Overnight, Farkle Minkus becomes the heir to a multiple billion-dollar company and inherits all of his parent's assets. The money that he spent so many years hating and the responsibility that he'd spent so many years avoiding, finally all belong to him, and he's not at all prepared._

 _"What is this?" Riley demanded, shoving her way through the thick crowd of photographers and into the back alley that led to Farkle's penthouse._

 _"A billionaire and his stunningly beautiful wife just died, not to mention the other passenger's on the plane, who we don't even know about, yet. Everyone wants to know what happened," Maya reminded her, linking her arm through Riley's as a security guard let them through the side door._

 _"It's like they don't even care that people died, that Farkle's grieving," Riley pointed out, trying to shake off the restless energy that had been pulsing through the crowd._

 _"For them, it's just another rich guy, who died on his private plane. Give it a couple of weeks and they'll lose interest," Maya assured her, guiding her towards the elevator._

 _"Oh good, you're here," Zay greeted them as the golden doors slid open._

 _"It's a zoo out there," Maya complained, sliding into the elevator next to him. His eyes lingered on Maya for a half a second too long and Riley found herself wishing that she wasn't the third wheel in the awkward space._

 _"I should warn you that he's not holding up too well," Zay explained, wrapping his arms around himself and leaning back, "Lucas sent me down to look for the two of you. There's some concern that the crowd is going to get out of control and Minkus International just asked Farkle if he would be willing to make a statement."_

 _"You're kidding," Riley's voice came out flat._

 _"Their stock started plummeting as soon as the stock market opened," Zay informed them._

 _"Just what Farkle needs, more pressure," Maya snorted, her gaze fixated on her shoes._

 _Riley watched the numbers shift on the elevator and wished that it would go faster. The room around her was charged with emotions and she felt as if she was channeling them, sampling the despair and heartbreak and guilt. It was almost nauseating on top of her own worry._

 _Just when it had reached a point that it was unbearable, the door opened and Riley instantly hurried out of it and into the hall. Her shoes clicked against the tile of the entryway and she forced herself not to stop and look at the family picture that hung on the main hallway, letting anyone who entered know who lived there._

 _"Lucas is in the bedroom with him, he hasn't wanted anyone else to go in," Zay explained, leading them through the penthouse._

 _"Riles?" Maya asked, uncertainly, when they reached just outside of the door._

 _Riley could easily read into what Maya was actually asking: which one of them should go in?_

 _"It's always been the three of us," Riley sighed and Maya gave a meek nod, before Riley knocked once and opened the door._

 _"I'll just wait here," Zay shrugged, uncomfortably, leaning up against the outside wall. There was a part of Riley that wanted to reach out to him, to include him because she knew that he was feeling on the outside of things now, but she, also, knew the competition that had existed between Zay and Farkle since he'd come to New York. Zay and Lucas shared a closeness that came from years of growing up with someone and it had strained the bond of Lucas and Farkle's relationship, leaving Farkle on the outside of things. And today had to be about Farkle._

 _Farkle's bedroom was pitch-black and Riley had to grab onto Maya's arm to keep herself from tripping over something that was on the floor. She could make out the unmistakable sound of crunching glass and Riley blinked several times to try and get her eyes to adjust to the light in the room._

 _"Farkle?" Riley questioned, pausing in her movements._

 _"We're in the bathroom," Lucas called out and Riley shared a hesitant look with Maya, despite the fact that neither of them could pick out the details of each other's faces._

 _It was Maya that found the courage to pull them on, moving slow enough that they couldn't injure themselves on the furniture that they bumped into or the books that Farkle seemed to have stacked across the floor._

 _The bathroom door swung open and Riley was relieved to see that light flickered from the nightlight that had been plugged into the wall, giving them a target to direct them._

 _"You could have turned on a light," Lucas pointed out in amusement, his voice low, as they hesitated at the doorway._

 _"It seemed wrong, somehow," Riley admitted, biting on her lip._

 _"We've tackled anger and denial, I think you've got depression," Lucas offered, gesturing to where Farkle was collapsed on the bathroom floor, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. His hair was a mess around his face and his knuckles had been bandaged in gauze._

 _"What?" Maya started, but cut off instantly, as she seemed to realize, as Riley had, that something had to be responsible for the glass that had crunched under their feet._

 _"I'll give you three a minute," Lucas offered, pausing to squeeze Riley's elbow in comfort, as he easily maneuvered his way out of the room and she instantly wished him back._

 _"Hey," Maya offered, as they entered the bathroom. Farkle didn't respond, but Riley thought she might have seen his eyes flicker to them for a second before returning to the wall._

 _"We would have been here sooner, but my parents were concerned about all the reporters," Riley admitted, sinking down easily next to him, as Maya moved over to sit on his other side._

 _"The parasites, you mean," Farkle offered, his voice monotone._

 _"I heard that your aunt was here, handling things," Riley said, leaning her head back against the wood of the vanity._

 _"They all expect me just to rise up and lead, to pull it together and be strong," Farkle snorted and Riley swore that she could see the sheen of tears in his eyes through the darkness, "I'm eighteen years old, I can't even drink, yet, but they want me to be the face of my father's company. They want to give me billions of dollars and pretend like I have any idea what to do with any of it. I didn't want any of this."_

 _"I know," Riley said, reaching out and twining her fingers with his._

 _"I'm not ready," he whispered, his eyes pleading with Riley to understand, as he turned to face her._

 _"You don't have to be, not today," Riley assured him, as he buried himself into the shoulder of her sweater. She could feel his tears landing on her neck and Maya curled into his side, resting her head on his other shoulder._

 _It was the three of them, it always would be._

* * *

A cool breeze drifted in off the veranda, blowing the white curtains as though they were ghosts dancing in the fading daylight. The house was quiet, except for the sea glass that could be heard rocking into each other from the strings that hung outside of the house.

Riley had always known that Maya would do well for herself, but the beachside residence was far beyond any of Riley's expectations. Original art pieces hung from the white walls, painted with bright colors that drew the eye and warmed the light blue and gray color scheme that most of Maya's furniture was in. It was clear that this was Maya's sanctuary and Riley felt a little strange intruding into Maya's personal space, although they had always shared everything in the past.

"It's too quiet," Savannah commented, sprawling out onto the couch and knocking a sky-blue afghan to the floor in the process.

"It is, isn't it?" Riley sighed, thinking of the last time she had been in the house. Maya had loved to blast music and there had been family filling the rooms with laughter. It had been years ago, and the thought of how much time Riley had let pass, left her feeling empty.

Riley's attention brushed passed the kitchen and the custom-built dining room table, that Maya had had commissioned out of driftwood, as she moved further through the house. She'd come on a mission, but hadn't expected to be so caught up in the essence of Maya that lingered everywhere around her. Maya's city apartment had been filled with framed pictures of Maya from her modeling career and artwork that Maya had bought on a whim. It had been decorated by a professional and Riley had known that it was more of a showpiece then an actual home for the blonde.

She slowly made her way up the stairs, clutching tightly to the railing, as she tried to delay the task at hand. Things were moving too quickly and she would give anything to slow everything down, if only for a moment.

"You don't have to act so old," Savannah complained, sprinting passed her on the staircase, as she bolted to the second story. The problem, of course, was that Riley felt a hundred years old. She felt as though she was trying to move through Jell-O and every movement required an enormous amount of effort.

Riley increased her pace and found Savannah waiting just outside the door to Maya's bedroom. Her hand hesitated reaching for the doorknob and Riley could easily read the conflicted look on the teenager's face. She'd been putting up a brave front since Riley's flight had gotten in, but she knew that the emotions would eventually catch up to her. Maya had always been good at concealing her emotions, but Savannah wore everything on her face, something Maya had always attributed to Savannah's father.

"You could wait downstairs," Riley suggested, wrapping her arms around herself as she suddenly felt a chill that ran straight through her shirt to her skin.

"No, I asked to come," Savannah reminded her, closing her eyes, before she deliberately turned the doorknob and let the door swing open.

Every bedroom that Maya had ever had was always a cluttered mess and this room was no different. Makeup and hair products were scattered across Maya's vanity and clothes formed a layer over the carpet on the floor. Riley automatically found herself reaching for them and folding dresses and shirts over her arm on her way towards the hastily made bed. There was a half-painted canvas positioned in front of the window and a stack of brushes were soaking in water that had turned red, as though Maya had planned to return to it soon.

Riley had found that there were plenty of things that Maya had planned to return to.

Riley's attention was inevitably drawn to the dresser, where Maya kept a collection of jewelry boxes and the cedar chest that was a sister to Riley's own. Carved into the top was the phrase, "Well behaved women seldom make history," which had been something of a joke between the two girls in their adult lives.

Riley slowly lifted the lid and found it stuffed with pictures and magazine articles. It had been this box that had drawn Riley to The Hamptons, despite the chaos that was occurring among her family in the city. Things would be packed up, auctioned off, and tucked away in the coming weeks and Riley wanted to make sure that she got what she needed while it was all still intact.

"Can I see?" Savannah questioned, watching with interest, from where she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Sure," Riley agreed, sinking down next to her and pulling her legs up onto the bed, so that she could set the box in front of them.

The picture taped to the lid was from high school, one of her group of friends sitting on a set of steps, their arms wrapped around each other. Riley couldn't help running her hand over Maya's smiling face, as she laughed at something that Zay had said, and he looked at her with such adoration that Riley almost felt like she was intruding just to look at it.

"Who's that?" Savannah pointed to the girl sitting next to Maya.

"That is Isadora Smackle, Farkle's high school girlfriend," Riley replied, trying to keep the chill out of her voice.

"When did it end?" Savannah questioned, looking up in surprise.

"A long time ago," Riley replied, unwilling to dive completely into the memory.

"And that's you?" Savannah continued, her eyes pausing on the arm that Lucas had wrapped around her. Both Riley and Lucas were looking at the camera, but she had her head resting on his shoulder and it was clear that they were more than just friends.

"That's me," Riley agreed, dragging her eyes away from the photo.

Savannah seemed to sense that Riley wasn't ready to explain any further and she turned her attention to digging through the more recent articles, in search of the ones at the bottom. The teenager pulled out a photo of Riley and Maya as children, sitting together in The Bay Window and Riley gently took the picture from Savannah's hands.

"She's always been stunningly beautiful, hasn't she?" Savannah sighed.

"You look a lot like her," Riley informed her, comparing the blonde hair and blue eyes that were a trademark of both mother and daughter.

Riley's cellphone started to ring and Riley pulled it from her pocket, checking the number before she answered.

"I'm on a secure line," Farkle greeted her, the sound of traffic humming in the background of his call.

"I took Savannah to The Hamptons house," Riley informed him, aware that the teenager was listening intently, as she continued to flip through the contents of the cedar box.

"I don't think that you're going to want to bring her back to the city tonight. The press is having a field day with this and you can't escape the media coverage," Farkle said, his irritation evident.

"How bad is it?"

"Someone leaked the autopsy results and they've been digging up all of Maya's old party photos and her DUI. It's not flattering," Farkle admitted, "Katy says that the press has been hounding her for a statement all day."

"I have security with me, but the funeral is in two days," Riley groaned.

"We'll have Secret Service agents running security," Farkle offered, a note of hesitance in his voice.

"So, he's coming then," Riley sighed, closing her eyes, as she tried to ignore the twinge that went through her heart.

"You knew that he would, Riles," Farkle said gently.

"James isn't going to make it, I told him not to come," Riley confessed, wondering if she had made a mistake.

A long silence stretched across the phone, leaving only the background noise of the city to echo across the line. It was a sign of what a delicate situation they were in that he didn't say anything to her statement.

"I'm at Katy and Shawn's apartment, I'll call you back," Farkle said and Riley nodded, although he couldn't see her.

"Hey, Farkle, I love you," Riley felt the need to say, all too aware of how fleeting mortality really was.

"I love you, too," he assured her, before ending the call.

"What's going on?" Savannah questioned and Riley forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"We're going to spend the night here," Riley replied, setting aside her cell phone.

"You're trying to protect me from what the newspapers are saying, aren't you?" Savannah accused, her eyes narrowing.

"They're just bringing up things that are better left in the past," Riley replied, returning the picture to the box.

"I know that everyone's trying to protect me from all of my mother's mistakes, but I've seen the articles from before," Savannah informed her, "I know about the drugs and the divorces and the arrest."

"And you know that they twist things to make it sound more exciting," Riley pointed out.

"Then tell me the truth, tell me what really happened," Savannah demanded, her eyes blazing, "I want to know who my father really is and who my mother was because the mother that I remember doesn't match up to any of the articles that I've read."

"There are things that we'd all rather forget, Sav," Riley sighed, running a hand through her hair, "Your mother was a good person, but she wasn't perfect."

The past tense sent a jolt through Riley and she suddenly felt a physical pain that stabbed through her chest and caused her to double over. Tears rose to the front of her eyes, but they seemed so inadequate to convey the emotions that she was feeling. She had been ripped in half, part of herself, recklessly, torn away from her, leaving her incomplete. Her one constant was gone and life had ceased to have meaning, to have reason.

"Aunt Riley?" Savannah's hand rested on Riley's shoulder blade and it instantly pulled Riley out of her grief. The knowledge that Maya's daughter, the thing in the world that Maya had loved above all else, needed her to hold it together, had been the only thing keeping her from dissolving and that knowledge was enough for Riley to shove her own pain aside and look up.

"There are things that your mother didn't want you to know," Riley felt the need to admit, "She wanted to protect you."

"Well, she didn't protect me from this, did she?" Savannah bit out sharply, rising from the bed and kicking carelessly at her mother's clothes, "She left me here, she left you here, to clean up this horrible mess."

"We don't know that," Riley insisted, needing to believe something other than the horrible stories that Riley hadn't been able to ignore.

"But I do know," Savannah's voice cracked and Riley pulled the teenager into her arms, as Savannah sobbed helplessly into Riley's shoulder, "What are we going to do? What are we supposed to do?"

Savannah fell asleep shortly after crying herself out and Riley didn't have the heart to move her, though she also didn't think she could stand another minute in Maya's room. Riley gently lowered the teenager onto the bed and grabbed the cedar box, leaving the door open as she headed out into the hall.

It was strange to think that she was by herself and she found herself searching for the last time that it had happened. She'd had her entire security detail with her on the flight, surrounding her and keeping her from feeling like she could let her guard down.

Then, she'd landed in Virginia, where Savannah had been attending a boarding school, and she'd gone immediately to find her niece. Farkle had been handling everything in the city and Riley knew that with Maya's estrangement from her mother, it wasn't likely that Katy would be allowed through the heavy security to get to Savannah. It had been her complete focus, the one thing that she could do about the situation that they had found themselves in.

And, now, she was left alone with her thoughts. It was a dangerous thing for someone who had plenty of things she would rather not think about.

She found herself sitting down on the stairs and removing the hospital band from Savannah's birth that had once fit around Savannah's tiny ankle, and Riley couldn't help the smile that came unbidden to her face. It had been just her and Maya that day at the hospital and Riley had worried that she was about to lose her best friend. She'd taken one look into Savannah's big blue eyes and it hadn't mattered that she would have to share Maya, anymore, because Savannah was a part of Maya and a part of her by extension.

Riley let the band fall to the floor next to her and found herself retrieving a picture of herself from her wedding. She'd wanted to get rid of all of the pictures when she'd left her husband and she'd set a fire on the very beach behind this house to do it. It didn't surprise her that Maya had somehow managed to save some of the photographs.

The first one was her getting ready in one of the vacant rooms of the church. Her hair was in curlers and she was laughing at something Maya had said, as her mother and Maya intently did her makeup.

There were other wedding photographs, but Riley set them next to the bracelet, unable to bring herself to indulge in the once joyful memories that had been tinged in regret and sadness.

She pulled out the newspaper article that announced the plane crash of Farkle's father and was surprised to find that Maya had kept the article that featured them at the funeral. They had never recovered the bodies, but they'd held a memorial service in Philadelphia and the picture captured them entering the memorial service.

Maya was holding onto Farkle's arm on one side, while Riley held onto the other, both just trying to keep him upright and she found herself pulled back into memories.

 _"We should let some of the press in," Devan Carter, one of the board members of Minkus International, suggested, as they sat in the mostly empty conference room._

 _"Farkle?" his aunt had turned to him for direction, looking overwhelmed and completely in over her head._

 _"I don't care," he returned, leaning back in his seat and fidgeting with the tie around his neck._

 _"It's their memorial service," his aunt had reminded him, looking at him shock._

 _"It's a show we're putting on to try and show the world that Stewart Minkus may be gone, but his company will live on," Farkle snorted, "Maybe you should get advertising on that, it might make a good song lyric."_

 _"I greatly respected your father," Devan sighed, "But you know how hard he worked for this company, how important it was to him."_

 _"It was his whole life," Farkle returned, "So, let's let the press in, maybe we can find a celebrity to sing, and I'll try to look appropriately sad."_

 _Maya gave Riley a look and Riley picked up on exactly what she wanted, "Farkle, if you don't want this, we can go."_

 _"Go where, Riles? Where exactly could we go to escape from all of this?" Farkle demanded, standing up and moving towards the windows that took up an entire wall of the conference room._

 _"I'm sorry," Farkle's aunt offered, looking at Devan in embarrassment, "It's been a trying time for our family."_

 _"I understand, maybe we should take a break," Devan offered, closing his notebook and standing up from the seat._

 _Riley waited until the conference room door had closed to stand up and approach Farkle at the window. He was looking out over the city with the same blank expression that never seemed to leave his eyes._

 _"They're going to ask me to speak," Farkle said, quietly._

 _"You don't have to," Riley assured him._

 _"I do, my father would never forgive me if I didn't. He'd never forgive me for just giving up and letting everything that he built collapse," Farkle sighed, "And the entire world's going to remember exactly what I say, exactly how I handle all of this."_

 _"But I won't," Maya offered, having approached them without Riley noticing, "I'll probably sleep through the entire thing."_

 _The ghost of a smile played across Farkle's lips and Riley gave her a nod of approval._

 _The day of the funeral is cold, though Riley can't decide if it's because of the emotions or the wind that promises a storm is about to blow in. She dresses warm, in the clothes that were bought specifically for the occasion and that she planned on discarding at the next available opportunity._

 _"How are you holding up?" Lucas questioned, slipping into her room._

 _They were staying at Riley's grandparent's house and Lucas had shared a bedroom with Auggie the night before. Riley had woken up to find Maya gone and she's not sure what had happened to the blonde, but she knows that they're all struggling to cope, struggling to be what Farkle needs and to say all of the right things._

 _"One of the board members asked me to keep Farkle in line, today, said that Farkle listens to me," Riley complained, struggling to fasten the string of pearls around her neck._

 _"He does," Lucas offered, quietly, moving over to help her._

 _"But they should have asked Smackle," Riley leaned back into him and his hands moved down from her shoulders to rest around her waist and she leaned back into him, "She loves him, Lucas, and he loves her. She should be the one standing by him."_

 _"But he didn't ask for her," Lucas reminded her and the words felt like a weight settling onto her shoulders._

 _"If you don't want to do this, then you don't have to," Maya insisted, kneeling in front of Farkle, as she tried to get through to him. Riley had one hand rested on his shoulder in comfort, as Maya took her turn to be the strong one, "We can sneak you out the back and make a run for it."_

 _"I just need a minute," Farkle promised, breathing in deeply, as he struggled to get ahold of himself. He was pale and Riley found herself wondering if he was going to be sick._

 _"If you want to get out of there, at any time, or for any reason, we'll get you out," Maya promised and he nodded once, before bracing himself and standing up._

 _Riley's hand dropped from his shoulder and Maya stepped back to stand by Riley's side as Farkle arranged his hair in the bathroom mirror and straightened the tie of his suit._

 _"Showtime," he snorted, turning back to look at them._

 _"We'll stay close," Riley promised, falling into step behind him as they left the men's restroom._

 _"Are you ready, Dearest?" Smackle questioned, looking incredibly uncomfortable from where she had been waiting for them out in the hall. Riley knew that Smackle was struggling with all of the emotions that came along with the death of Farkle's parents, though it was clear that she was trying._

 _Riley gave her an encouraging smile and looked away as Farkle brushed a strand of hair behind Smackle's._

 _"I'm good," he promised, forcing a smile that looked painful, "I'll meet you in there."_

 _Smackle nodded once, though Riley could see the war that was waging inside of her. Watching Smackle struggle with how to support Farkle and stand by him for the last week had been hard to watch. She'd found herself worrying that Smackle's hesitance in the situation would drive a wedge between the two of them._

 _"I know we haven't talked about this, but will the both of you sit with me?" Farkle questioned when Smackle had entered the room, looking back once before the door had closed between them._

 _"Of course," Maya promised and a look of relief spread across his face._

 _Riley grabbed Farkle's hand and Maya easily claimed the other one, as they prepared themselves for what would come next._

 _Farkle had fought tooth and nail that they didn't hold the service in a church, but it had felt just as inappropriate that they hold it any of the other venues that had been suggested, so in the end he had given in. Pictures of both of his parents were propped up at the front of the room and flowers were scattered everywhere._

 _Riley wasn't sure that she would ever be able to smell a rose again and not think of this moment._

 _Riley's eyes automatically found their way to Lucas and she was relieved to see that he was seated with her parents, talking quietly with Smackle. He looked up the minute that her eyes landed on his face and she knew that he was remembering her concerns from earlier that morning._

 _She would have rather sat next to him, but she knew that Farkle needed her, so she obediently followed him to the row of pews that were reserved for family and kept a hold of Farkle's hand through the beginning of the service._

 _Devan was the first speaker and he spent a lot of time going over Stewart's professional accomplishments with the occasional funny story thrown in. She could barely process most of it and soon it was over and Farkle's aunt was talking about her sister, talking about the great romance of between Farkle's parents and how she was glad that they had the opportunity to go together._

 _From what Riley had heard from Farkle, she wasn't sure that any of it was actually true, but it made for a pretty story and she could tell that the journalists and photographers were eating it up._

 _Riley felt Farkle start shaking, as his turn quickly approached and she squeezed his hand, hoping that it would help ground him before he had to continue. He gave her a grateful glance and then was standing up and marching to the podium, every sign of his nerves instantly vanishing._

 _"I'd like to thank all of you for coming on behalf of my family. It means a great deal to know that we have so much support," Farkle started, years of debate allowing him to fall into a steady and confidant rhythm, "My father was an incredibly hard working man, he built Minkus International from nothing, into something amazing."_

 _Riley's mind slowly drifted away as Farkle continued, switching from his father's accomplishments to the charities that his mother had helped with. His voice never wavered and despite being a little dispassionate, Riley couldn't help thinking that he was doing a much better job then what she had expected._

 _Her eyes shuffled from Farkle, over her shoulder to sneak a glance at Smackle. The dark-haired girl was chewing on her lip and staring intently at the ground and Riley felt a wave of sympathy that compressed her heart from within her chest._

 _"They're going to be fine, Riles," Maya assured her in a low voice, already knowing what Riley was worrying about._

 _"Nothing feels fine, Maya," Riley argued, "None of this even feels real."_

 _"We just have to get through tonight," Maya promised, linking her arm through Riley's, "Just a few more hours."_

* * *

"You look awful," Farkle didn't sugarcoat anything, as Riley let him into the house. He looked slightly ruffled from having to deal with the security detail that she'd been forced to bring along with her, but he was otherwise just as she remembered him.

He had the same lean build and the height that towered over her, despite the fact that Riley would never be called short. It was clear that he was overdue from a haircut, by the way his hair hung stubbornly in his eyes, but he was familiar, and Riley couldn't help feeling like she was finally home.

"I had a twelve-hour flight before this and I've been running ever since," Riley argued, although she was already pulling him into a hug and burrowing herself into his chest. His hoodie was warm and she was relieved to find that he still smelled exactly how she remembered him smelling; like coffee and the cologne that he'd been wearing since middle school.

"We're not going to talk about it, are we?" Farkle questioned, his voice going serious.

"If I let myself breakdown, I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to pull myself together again," Riley admitted, folding her arms across her chest, as she stepped back.

"I think Maya's got some alcohol around here, somewhere," Farkle suggested, his tone going lighter.

"I didn't think that Buddhists drank?" Riley asked, blankly, watching as he started going through Maya's cabinets.

"We don't," Farkle replied, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid and pouring it into a ceramic kitten mug, "You want some?"

"I'm not drinking," Riley admitted.

"I forgot," Farkle stared intently at the mug, as silence stretched between them. Whatever comradery they'd had between them was sucked out of the room, as the years of distance and mistakes sat between them.

"You probably want to know," Riley started, but he cut her off before she could continue.

"I don't, Riles. At least, not tonight."

He swallowed everything in the mug in a single gulp, coughing, before he poured himself another glass.

"I'm going to tell Savannah the truth, the whole story," Riley informed him, crossing the room to sink down in a barstool.

"About her father?" Farkle guessed, his voice coming out rough, as his face twisted into a sour expression, as he finished off another glass. He'd never been a drinker, even before his religious enlightenment, but, then again, neither had she, once.

"Before all of this, I agreed to do a book, telling everything," Riley confessed, "I just wanted people to see Maya the way she really was, to see all of us the way we are."

"She wouldn't have wanted that," Farkle sighed, "She was done with trying to set the record straight, she just wanted to be left alone. What right does anyone have to know about us? To know about Maya, Savannah, you and Lucas? Our lives don't need to be splattered across the front page."

"But they are, Maya's everywhere, Farkle, and Lucas and me. The stories are going to be out there, whether we want them to be or not, but this way, at least, we know it's the truth. We'll all be gone someday and we've been put in the unfortunate position that the world is going to remember us. I'd like to write the way history remembers us, not some tabloid."

"History is written by the victors. Can't you see that we've already lost?" Farkle spat, dumping the mug in the sink and leaving the room.

Riley let her head fall into her hands, as the house descended into complete silence.

* * *

The loneliness is an old friend and Riley can't help feeling that it might be all that she'll have left in the end. Her heels clicked against the tiles of the morgue and her open Burberry trench coat floated behind her, painting a distorted silhouette of shadows against the brick walls.

"I have to warn you, she doesn't look the best," the man leading her, informed her, his hands stuffed deeply into a white lab coat, "The mortician will do a better job of making her appear more-."

"Lifelike," Riley suggested, after he'd trailed off, raising a brow.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"You listed the cause of death as an overdose?" Riley questioned, biting her lip, as he paused in front of a heavy, metal, door.

"I can't say if it was intentional, but the cause of death was a lethal cocktail of antidepressants and alcohol," he explained, quietly, looking uncomfortable.

"It wasn't," Riley paused, in an effort to keep her voice from cracking, "Intentional. Maya has a daughter and she never would have deliberately done this."

"Of course, not," he agreed quickly.

"You can open the door," Riley suggested, squaring her shoulders.

He nodded slowly before pulling it open and assaulting her face with cold air. She stepped over the threshold into the room and he carefully checked the numbers on the closed metal slabs, to the ones on the checkboard, before he pulled one open. A single white sheet concealed Maya's body from Riley's view and she found herself unconsciously stepping forward.

"Are you sure you want to do this now? We're transporting her in a couple of hours and she'll look a lot better, once the mortician has been able to take care of her," he suggested, looking at Riley for her answer.

"She'll still be dead," Riley pointed out, wiping at a tear that had managed to escape through her resolve, "And I need to know that this is real."

 _Wind whipped through Maya's hair, as she rose from the reclined wicker chair. Her skin was bronze from the time they'd spent in the sun and her swimsuit clung to her body like a second skin. The ocean stretched for miles in every direction and beat against the sides of the yacht that they'd been vacationing on. Altogether, forming a dazzling picture._

 _"Why is it that I can spend four hours a day in the gym and never look like you?" Riley questioned, sipping at her drink, as Maya reapplied sunscreen to her skin._

 _"What are you talking about, Riles? You're gorgeous," Maya insisted, rubbing the lotion into her legs._

 _"The_ National Enquirer _claimed that I've gained fifteen pounds," Riley pointed out._

 _"Didn't they, also, claim that you were pregnant?" Maya offered, sinking back down onto the edge of the chair, "You're not pregnant, are you? This engagement happened awfully fast."_

 _"No, I'm not pregnant," Riley snorted, a hand unconsciously going to her stomach. She glanced at the diamond that was eight-carrots and currently weighing down her finger, before she tucked the hand away, unable to look at it any longer._

 _"But you're not happy, either," Maya said, intuitively._

 _"We're good together," Riley argued, taking to the defensive, "And who are you to talk? You've been married three times."_

 _"So, I know something about wedded misery. Why are you doing this, Riles?"_

 _"The last time, almost destroyed me, Maya. I can't ever let myself feel that kind of pain again," Riley admitted, "But I need to be doing something,"_

 _"You're marrying a project," Maya snorted, leaning back in her seat and stretching her legs out in front of her._

 _"I'm catching up with you. Speaking of which, I heard you went to see Josh," Riley changed the subject._

 _"I'm his muse for his latest collection," Maya admitted, "All he did was take some photographs."_

 _"That's not what people will be saying when his pictures come out," Riley snorted, turning onto her stomach, "And they won't be that far off the mark."_

 _"Savannah loves Josh and I can't put her in a situation where it could ruin that if things go badly."_

 _"How do you know that things will go badly? You've loved him since we were kids and you have to see that he loves you, too," Riley pointed out, watching as a shadow descended across the blonde's face._

 _"It's not like things were with you and Lucas. Josh has always been this fantasy that was just a little bit out of reach and I've had so many fantasies destroyed these last couple of years, Riles. If things don't work out with Josh, then it means that I really am meant to be alone," Maya mused, refusing to look at Riley as she spoke._

 _"Maya, it's because things between you and Josh aren't like things with Lucas and I, that you should take a chance on this," Riley argued._

 _"Someday, but there's still plenty of time, Riles. Now, this conversation has been completely depressing and I only get you to myself for one week out of the year, so, Princess, I insist we do something fun."_

 _"Fine," Riley agreed, shaking off the tense mood and following Maya into the cabin._

Riley blinked away the memory from the last time that she had seen Maya and watched as she sheet was peeled back to reveal an image that would stamp itself into Riley's mind for the rest of her life.

Maya's hair was fanned out around her and her eyes closed, though they were rimmed in dark, purple bruises. The copper skin was replaced with skin that was devoid of color, except for a bluish cast that was several shades lighter than the blue in Maya's lips. She was as familiar as Riley's own face reflected in the mirror, but this person stretched out before her was so alien, that she had to be a stranger.

"She would have had a ring, when she was brought in," Riley turned to the man.

"I can get you her personal belongings. Did you want a minute?" he asked, looking at her with compassion in his eyes.

All Riley could manage was a nod, but she did hold the tears at bay until he was out of the room. They ran trails down her cheeks, as she closed the remaining distance and slowly reached out to touch Maya's hair.

"What have you done?" she asked, her body hunching over into sobs so filled with grief that the sounds bouncing off the walls, barely sounded human.

* * *

"How did it go?" Farkle asked, as Riley let herself into the apartment. They'd made the tense and silent drive back earlier that morning and Riley had left Savannah in Farkle's care, while she visited Maya in the morgue. She can't help thinking that she preferred the beach house to the apartment.

A giant picture of Maya dressed in a designer gown and hundreds of thousands of dollars of diamonds, took up most of the entryway and Riley couldn't help stopping to stare at the unearthly beauty that had been Maya Hart.

"It's really her," Riley replied, her thumb moving to the place on her finger that now held a ring she'd given to Maya with no intention of ever getting it back. They were supposed to die together, years from now.

"Oh," Farkle's eyes fell to the ground, though, not before she could see the endless grief that echoed through them.

"Where's Savannah?" Riley questioned, glancing around the room, although she already knew that the teenager wasn't there.

"She's in her bedroom," Farkle replied, sinking back down onto the couch, "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Which part?"

"I don't agree with what you're doing. She thinks Josh is her father, Riles," Farkle informed her, lowering his voice.

"How do you know that?" Riley demanded, taking a step forward.

"She told me a while ago and I didn't know what to say. It's a nice story and sometimes that's better than the truth," Farkle sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes with his thumb.

"Josh was the love of her life," Riley offered, closing the remaining distance between the two of them and sinking down next to him.

"Did you know she was depressed?" Farkle questioned, turning to look at her.

"She's struggled with depression for a long time. It started after she had Savannah. She would go into these black moods and nothing that anyone did was enough to get her out. I don't know when she started taking the medication, but she controlled it by throwing herself into her art for a while."

"You'll never know how sorry I am that I wasn't there," Farkle admitted and Riley reached over to take his hand.

 _Riley and Maya were best friends, the sky was blue, and Farkle and Smackle were going to Princeton together. They were irrefutable facts of life and Riley's not prepared for the moment when all of it comes crashing down._

 _"What are you doing?" Riley demanded, slamming Farkle's front door behind her as she entered the home that had been such a big part of her teenage years._

 _Boxes lined the walls and Riley could see that most of the art had been taken down. It was a house in transition and it was a fair metaphor for how Riley felt herself, in these last few weeks before they were all off to start new adventures._

 _"I think that's pretty obvious," Farkle pointed out, dropping a box in the center of the foyer, as he came into her view._

 _"Smackle just told me that you've turned down your acceptance to Princeton," Riley informed him, crossing her arms across her chest._

 _"She was correct," he replied, turning back the way he had come and leaving Riley to try and follow him through the maze of boxes._

 _"Why?"_

 _"Because it's not what I want anymore, Riley. My parents are gone and all this place," he paused to gesture around him, "Has become a mausoleum. I have more money than I could spend in multiple lifetimes and I'm brilliant. I could have anything that I want in this world, except for my family back. And I don't want Princeton, anymore. I don't want the house or the money and I don't want to be stuck in this city."_

 _"Then what do you want?" Riley asked, her voice becoming quiet in her uncertainty and confusion._

 _"I don't know. That's what I have to figure out," Farkle replied, "I need some time to try and put myself back together again and I can't do that at Princeton or here."_

 _"What about Smackle?" Riley pointed out, "What about us, your friends? You're choosing to face all of this alone, when you don't have to."_

 _"You're my best friend, Riley. You and Maya, will always be my best friends, but this isn't something that we can face together. This is something that I have to figure out for myself," he sighed, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, "And I need you to support me in that."_

 _"Promise me you'll come back," Riley said, looking at him intently._

 _"Of course, I'll come back, Riles," he assured her._

"There wasn't anything that you could have done," she assured him, leaning back into the cushions. Heaven knows Riley had tried everything that she could to help Maya and always come up short.

"Are we going to talk about it?" he repeated his enquiry from the night before.

The question sat between them, as Riley thought it through.

Were they going to talk about whether Maya had killed herself or if it was some horrible accident? Or Riley's divorce, which had been bitter and angry? Or her marriage, which had hollowed her out and left her an empty shell? What topic was going to help bridge the distance that had somehow crept between them over the years?

"I'm an alcoholic."


	2. Episode Two: Cross My Hart

**The version of the song that helped inspire this chapter is a cover by Chester See and Alex G.**

* * *

 _"But baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you_

 _Yeah I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go_  
 _Got you stuck on my body, on my body like a tattoo_  
 _And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid coming back to you_

 _So I cross my heart and I hope to die_  
 _That I'll only stay with you one more night_  
 _And I know I said it a million times_

 _But I'll only stay with you one more night."-Maroon 5, "One More Night."_

There are moments in life that you will forever remember. You'll know exactly where you were; what it smelled like, what you were wearing. Sometimes, they're world events and other times they're personal. This one just happened to be both.

He's at a gas station off a highway that he's sure has a name, but hasn't bothered to learn. Though, he, at least, knows that he's in California. In one hand, he holds a chilled Diet Coke and, with the other, he's going through the snacks on a shelf by the door.

He's planning to return to his hotel, where he'll eat the food that's not good for him and lay in a bed that makes him miss his own. He'll probably stare at his cell phone and the number that he equally wants to call and wants to delete from his phone's memory.

He remembers snagging a bag of chips from the shelf and turning to discover a magazine that shows Riley hanging on the arm of her fiancé. He snags it and places all of his purchases on the counter, waiting as the cashier rings him up.

"You don't strike me as the kind of person who's into gossip magazines," the young girl, commented, her eyes scanning over the counter.

"You'd be surprised," he offered, sliding his credit card. She gave him a look and he figured that he might as well elaborate, "I'm a photographer."

"You didn't take that picture?" she questioned, looking at him with a new awe. It's an intuitive leap, that he's not sure how she made, but she has an innocence that he hasn't seen on anyone in quite some time. It reminds him of a younger Riley.

"No, but I've taken her picture before," he revealed, wishing she would hand over his receipt, so that he could leave.

"You know Riley?" the girl asked, her mouth dropping open.

"You could say that," he shrugged, relieved, when she finally added the receipt to his bag and handed it over.

"Have a nice day," she offered, though he could tell from the look in her eyes that she wanted to continue the conversation.

He took his purchases to his rental car and shoved them into the passenger's seat, relieved to be getting out of the heat. He turns the key in the ignition, his face instantly being blasted with hot air and is just getting ready to pull out of his spot, when the radio comes on.

"And in breaking news, we've just learned that model and previous wife of actor Kyle Breckett, Maya Hart has been rushed to the hospital in critical condition. There hasn't been an official statement made, however, there are photographs of Maya being lifted into an ambulance. You can find those on our website and we'll be updating you on any developments, as we receive them."

He sits frozen in his seat as they move onto a new piece of news, but everything around him has seemed to have gone mute. He grabs his cell phone and dials the first favorite contact in his phone, waiting as it rings.

"If I'm not answering, I've probably lost my phone….again. Call my assistant and she'll be a lot better about getting back to you," Maya's voice suggested, before the beep pierced his ears that signaled he should leave a message.

He hung it up, his hands shaking, as he tried to decide who to call next.

He's not sure how long he sits there before his phone starts vibrating and he looks down, hoping that it's Maya calling him back to laugh about the latest thing the tabloids have gotten wrong. However, one look at the number and ice settles over his heart.

"How bad is it?"

"Ava was just called in to the hospital to go over Maya's living will," Auggie informed him, "I think you'd better get out here, as soon as you can."

"Savannah?" Josh asked, struggling to get his thoughts into a logical order.

"If anything happens to Maya, Riley takes over custody. She's the only one that's going to be able to get to Savannah. James called me a couple of minutes ago to let me know that she's taking a private jet and she'll be here in the next twelve hours," Auggie listed, the sound of a door slamming in the background.

"I'm going to head to the airport and I'll be there as soon as I can," Josh promised, hanging up the phone, before he peeled out of his parking space and onto the highway.

 _He's in the ice business. At least, that's how she would jokingly introduce him to her entourage of A-listers and herd of assistants. He'd never understood it, until she'd finally explained it to him._

 _There's something about taking a picture of a person. It's like capturing their essence for a moment in time and revealing a glimpse into who they really are, who they'll forever be to anyone who takes the time to study the photograph._

 _That's what had started him on this pathway. It was after his father had died from a massive stroke and he'd come home from the hospital, exhausted and devastated. His mother had closed herself in the room that she'd shared for decades with his father and he'd sat down at the table with a book of photographs and looked at the memories that captured his family whole. The future couldn't change those moments in the pictures, couldn't make the smiles turn to frowns, or weigh them down with the knowledge of what was to come._

 _"This is Joshua Mathews, he's in ice," Maya offered, her smile catching him off-guard with its sincerity._

 _"Like the frozen water or your view of him?" the man on her arm, clarified, a dimple in his cheek sticking out as he looked at Maya, as though she were the center of his universe._

 _"Neither," she replied, "He freezes people in time. This is Kyle," Maya returned her attention to Josh._

 _"I don't live in a cave, Maya," Josh informed her and she let out a bell of laughter, "And I think people like me prefer the term photographer."_

 _"Who do you take photographs for?" Kyle asked, politely, when it became clear that Maya wasn't going to step up._

 _"I freelance, mostly, but I'm hoping to open my own gallery," Josh revealed, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny._

 _"He did the collection of, 'Faces of the Future,' that was just on display at NYU," Maya added and Josh looked at her in surprise._

 _"I'm afraid I'm only in New York for the weekend and I'm a Californian native," Kyle apologized, the smile on his face becoming tense._

 _"It got national coverage. They're pictures of children that do an incredible job of capturing the innocence and the potential that everyone starts out with," Maya explained._

 _"I think I did hear something about that," Kyle offered, although Josh could easily see through the lie._

 _"Why don't you go and grab us something to drink? Josh is an old family friend and I just want to talk to him for a minute," Maya suggested and Kyle nodded tightly before disappearing into the crowd of people._

 _"I didn't know that you were going to be here," Josh started, as Maya linked her arm with his and pulled him out the nearest door and into a quiet corner._

 _"I feel like I should be pointing out the same thing. This isn't exactly your crowd," Maya reminded him._

 _"I did the profile on Alexa Greenwich for_ Fairest _a couple of months ago. I guess I must have left an impression on Alexa," Josh explained, leaning against the wall._

 _"You do have a way with models," Maya snorted, though her eyes wouldn't meet his._

 _"What's going on with the guy?"_

 _"You know who Kyle is," Maya chastised him, "And we have an agreement to keep each other company whenever we happen to find ourselves in the same place."_

 _"He's looking at you like he might think your agreement is a little more serious," Josh informed her, as she stepped out of her shoes and flexed her foot._

 _"How long has it been since we last saw each other?" Maya changed the subject._

 _"Your last wedding," Josh offered, thinking back to the last time that he'd watched her walk down the aisle. He thought that maybe it would get easier seeing her pledge her life to someone else the second time, but it hadn't been._

 _"We lasted a whole six months," Maya sighed, settling against the wall next to him, "Riley didn't like him."_

 _"I don't think anyone liked him. He spent more time on his hair, then you do," Josh snorted, thinking of the life-size Ken-doll that had splattered the tabloids through their courtship and divorce._

 _"Yeah, well, the price we pay for beauty," Maya offered._

 _"I used a pseudonym for that art collection," Josh pointed out, as Maya slowly wrapped a strand of hair around one finger._

 _"I'd recognize your work anywhere," she replied, "And I know how much you prefer being in the shadows."_

 _"I've missed you," Josh informed her, wishing that she would look up at him._

 _Her eyes trailed passed him to the doorway, where Kyle was standing holding two drinks._

 _"It was nice to see you Mathews. You grew up handsome," Maya reached over to squeeze his hand, before walking away from him without a backwards glance._

He's been in the air for an hour, when he realizes he left his suitcase and thousands of dollars in camera equipment in his hotel room. He'd dropped everything for Maya Hart, yet again, and he can't help thinking that she'd better be around to appreciate it.

He swirls the cubes of ice at the bottom of his plastic cup and looks at the woman sound asleep next to him. Her hairs in a messy, red bun and she's wearing sweats and a t-shirt. There's something beautiful about the mascara that's smudged around her eyes and the scar just under her chin. He can't remember the last time he'd taken a photograph of someone normal, someone who was willing to let him embrace and portray their flaws.

He spends most of his time editing them away; change the lighting, reduce the size of their waist, alter their skin tone. No one's ever perfect, enough.

It's why he'd taken the job in California. It was taking pictures of food along the west coast and besides offering the tantalizing escape that he'd been looking for, it was, also, a chance to photograph something real.

 _The third wedding is Maya's biggest. It's held on a vineyard in California and Josh can't help thinking that air itself is heavy with the smell of rotting grapes. He's not in the wedding party and he's not entirely sure why he even came, except for the hand addressed request from Maya personally, that he be there._

 _"She didn't think you'd come," Riley offered, swirling the crimson liquid in the glass that she's holding, as she joins him at the edge of the deck._

 _"I don't know why I'm here," Josh returned, his hands turning white against the railing that he's gripping like it's the only thing tethering him to earth, "But she knew that I would be. It's the game she plays. See how far she can push me before I'll walk away. She did the same thing with her last two husbands and both of them eventually did."_

 _"Maybe, she wants you to stop her," Riley suggested, slipping out of her shoes, and settling into her natural height. She takes another sip of the liquid in her glass and he wonders if her lips are stained red from lipstick or from what she's been drinking._

 _"Where's Lucas?" Josh changed the subject. In his experience where Riley was, Lucas was always several steps away. Though, he can't see the Texan anywhere near them, tonight._

 _"Washington," Riley replied, "He pointed out that he's been to Maya's last two weddings and this one probably won't be any different."_

 _"That's pessimistic," was all Josh could muster, as he took in the dead look that had settled into his niece's eyes._

 _"He's going through a phase," Riley informed him, finishing off the rest of her glass in a single gulp, "You ever feel like you're channeling so much of your own happiness into someone else, that there's nothing left for yourself, in the end?"_

 _"Is that how you feel?" Josh asked, surprised by the revelation._

 _"I don't feel, anything," Riley replied, before slipping her feet back into her shoes and shrugging her shoulders. He watches the muscles in her face contort, until there's no sign of the deeply planted exhaustion that she'd shown him a minute before and all that's left is the girl that's always been there._

 _"Riles, you're supposed to be acting as my buffer," Maya announced and Josh watched as Riley forced a smile that looked, so real, it even reached her eyes. He might have believed he'd dreamed up their entire conversation, except for the way it takes her just a second too long to get her lips into the right position._

 _"Sorry, Josh and I were just catching up," Riley explained, setting her empty glass on a table behind her._

 _"Hi," Maya greeted him, all of her previous confidence and bravado fading away, until it's the Maya that he's always known._

 _"You look gorgeous," he offered and her lips twitched at his word choice._

 _"I'm glad you're here," she admitted, "It wouldn't feel real without the both of you."_

 _He wants to point out that every one of her weddings have felt painfully real, but he knows that any outward expression of his feelings for her, will have her retreating back into her façade and he'll be left with nothing to hold onto._

 _"I'm going to go get a drink," Riley announces, leaving her glass, as she makes her way back into the rehearsal dinner that's happening inside._

 _"Why are we doing this, Maya? The last time we talked you told me that your relationship with Kyle was nothing and, now, you're marrying him?" Josh sighed, unable to keep his feelings to himself any longer._

 _"Riley's living in Washington, she's a senator's wife. When she talks, people care about what she says. They care about what she's wearing, too, but she's a complete person. I didn't finish college, Josh, I dropped out when I got pregnant with Savannah and I turned to modeling. I'm a frozen picture on a magazine cover; I'm my hair, who I'm wearing, who I'm seeing. And if people don't find me relevant, then I have nothing to fall back on. So, I'm marrying a movie star, who will love me until he doesn't, and then we'll both go our separate ways. I'm making sure that my name means something and hoping that, someday, Savannah will be a million times better than I ever have been."_

 _"You're more than any of those superficial things. You could walk away from all of this and remake yourself and I know that you'd land on your feet. You don't need this," Josh assured her, reaching out to grab her hand._

 _"But I don't know how to live without it," Maya admitted, squeezing his hand before she pulled away, "I came from nothing and I won't go back."_

He comes back to the present, with the jostling of the plane landing. He can hear the flight attendant talking over the intercom, though he can't process the words of what she's saying, and then he's filing his way out with the other passengers.

Maya's face is splattered on televisions all over the airport terminal and he forces himself not to stop and watch.

He turns on his phone, as he's leaving the terminal. Not entirely surprised to find that he has dozens of missed calls.

"Hey, Uncle Josh, it's Auggie. The crowd around the hospital has gotten bad and they're not letting anyone in or out, until the police can secure a perimeter. Meet me at the loft, Ava's giving us updates," Josh listened to the message, as he made his way into a cab and listed the address for where Auggie and Ava were currently living.

"Josh, it's Nicki. I know your emotions are probably running a bit high at the moment, but, when you're ready, I'd like to pull you in for an interview. I'm sure you'd like, at least, one press agency to be getting the story right," Josh deleted the message before it could continue, noting the time that the call had been made. The vultures had given him an entire hour to grieve before they'd descended, looking to capitalize on his pain.

He dialed the hotel where he'd been staying in California and waited as the phone rang, watching the buildings pass by outside of his window. He'd grown up in Philadelphia and, despite, going to school in New York had never really thought of the place as home.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd stayed because the one time he'd ever contemplated leaving, Lucas and Riley had bought a house in Texas and he'd known that without Riley, Maya would need someone to pull her out of trouble.

 _She's never had any regard for time, which is why Josh isn't surprised to have his phone start vibrating on the desk beside him, as he reduces the size of an actress's calves on the photo in front of him._

 _"Maya," he answers, not having to look at the number to know that it's her._

 _"I messed up, Josh," she sighed, her voice cracking, despite the strength that she's trying to portray, "You were right, you're always right."_

 _"What's going on?" he asked, picture forgotten, and coat half-on._

 _"We've been fighting, about stupid things. I thought that he'd live in California and I'd live here, but he's been spending more and more time in the city and claiming that I'm cheating on him. He barely lets me out of his sight."_

 _"What did he do, Maya?" Josh's voice went cold._

 _"We were fighting and he was so angry and he hit me," Maya's voice sounded shocked and a sob came over the line, "He left, but I don't know if he's coming back."_

 _"I want you to get out of the house. Don't pack anything, just get out. I'll meet you at_ Topanga's _," Josh suggested, already trying to find a middle place between their two locations. The fact that his sister-in-law's bakery would make Maya feel safe, was just an added benefit._

 _"I'll be there," Maya promised and he heard the sound of a door closing in the background._

 _"Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?" Josh questioned, wanting it more for himself, then for her._

 _He heard the sound of shuffling in the background and Maya's breathing, suddenly, became loud through the speaker, "I have to go, but I'll be there."_

 _The call disconnected and Josh felt his heart stop beating in his chest. He grabbed his camera off the desk, and shoved it into his coat pocket, before heading straight for the door._

 _He wanted to go to Maya's apartment, but he knew that he had a limited amount of time where Maya would be in shock enough that he could persuade her to go the hospital. And, if he wasn't there when she got the bakery that window would close. So, he kept a brisk pace and hoped that he was making the right decision._

 _He lets himself in with a key and immediately starts turning on lights, checking his phone for the time every few seconds. He knows that it will take Maya, at least, fifteen minutes to get there, but he can't help worrying that he's made the wrong decision, anyway._

 _"Josh?" he spins around, relieved to see the blonde standing at the front door. Her head is bowed and she's wearing two different shoes, but it's the single most beautiful sight that he's ever seen._

 _He instantly crosses the distance and pulls her into his arms, her own, winding around his neck and her head burying itself in his shoulder._

 _"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears soaking through his t-shirt, as he holds her together._

 _"Why didn't you tell me this was going on?" Josh questioned, unwilling to let go of her._

 _"After everything that I've put you through?" Maya returned, pulling away, though she kept her chin angled down._

 _"Let me see," he whispered, his hand going to her chin and tilting it up._

 _She didn't fight him and he gasped as he took in the bruising around her eye and jaw._

 _"It looks worse than it feels," she assured him, wrapping her arms around herself and revealing fingerprints that lined her arms._

 _"What did he do to you?"_

 _"He hit me once, grabbed me when I tried to get away from him and I fell and hit my head on the coffee table," Maya admitted, refusing to meet his gaze, "I think that I might have blacked out for a minute because he was gone when I woke up._

 _"And when you hung up on me?" he pressed, trying to hold in his own anger._

 _"He was in the lobby of the building, I turned around and went through a backdoor before he could see me," Maya explained, running a hand through her hair._

 _"We need to get you to a hospital," Josh insisted, struggling to get his thoughts into anything of a logical order._

 _"No, if I go to the hospital, they'll make me file a police report and it will be all over the news tomorrow morning," Maya protested._

 _"It should be, everyone should know who he is," Josh argued, having to turn away from her as he battled the turmoil that was churning inside of him._

 _"But they won't, Josh. They'll see what they want to see: A beloved actor, who's involved in more charities than I can name and who talks about how happy we are together in every interview that he gives. Some people might believe me, but others will think that I'm looking for attention or more money out of our divorce. I'm not going to put myself on trial, with a jury of people who understand only what we've shown them. It's better to solve this quickly and quietly."_

 _"And just let him do it to the next girl that comes along?" Josh pointed out, wondering what had happened to the girl who used to fight for everything._

 _"I was wrong. I married him for all of the wrong reasons, I chased this life, which hasn't made me happy. I ignored you and pushed you away, when you're one of the only three people in this world who I have left. I can't remember the last time that I picked up a paintbrush and did the one thing that's ever made me feel alive. I'm ready to leave it, but if I'm going to fade out of the limelight, I need to do this my way," she insisted, her eyes finally meeting his, as they pleaded with him to understand._

 _He knew that she was offering him the one thing that he couldn't say no to and it made him feel physically sick that he was going to agree to it. That he would grasp onto any chance to get her out of this life, even if it came at the cost of doing what he knew to be right._

 _"I won't make you go to the hospital, but I need you to meet me halfway," Josh sighed, rubbing his forehead._

 _"What do you want?"_

 _"You let me take pictures of your injuries, in case you change your mind later," Josh started, "And there's a nurse in my building who I'd like to have look at your head."_

 _"Okay," she gave in and he could see the defeat and tiredness in her expression._

 _"You're going to have to take off your jacket," he said, as he pulled his camera out of his pocket._

 _She slowly shrugged the jacket from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, revealing that the bruising was worse then what he'd seen it as. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from reacting._

 _He adjusts the settings to make sure that he captures her injuries in a way that leaves nothing to guess-work and starts snapping photos of her arms. Slowly, making his way up to her face._

 _"We'll want to do this again in the morning, they'll look worse," Josh offered, making sure that the time stamp on the pictures is correct, before he shuts it off._

 _"How did we get here?" she asked, looking around the room, "Our lives were never supposed to be like this."_

Josh managed to convince the hotel to send his belongings on to him throughout the remainder of the cab ride; Spending most of the conversation, explaining how delicate his equipment is and how it needs to be packed before they overnight it to his apartment.

It's the last thing that he cares about, at the moment, but it provides a good distraction.

"How was your flight?" Auggie questioned, as he pulled the front door open and Josh realizes that he can't remember if he paid the cab driver or not.

"Long," Josh replied, leaving his shoes at the door and following Auggie further inside, "What have you heard?"

"The maid service found her in a hotel this morning and couldn't wake her. There was alcohol and drugs everywhere, but she was still breathing when the ambulance arrived. They ran a toxicology screen to determine what was causing the overdose, but, even knowing, it doesn't look good," Auggie revealed, sinking down on the couch and gesturing for Josh to take a seat.

"So, what do they do next?" Josh questioned, struggling to keep his feelings from bubbling to the surface.

"Maya's an organ donor," Auggie revealed, putting his head in his hands, "They're in the process of running tests to determine if she's braindead. They can't use her kidneys or her liver, but her heart appears to still be intact."

"Of course," Josh laughed, knowing that it was entirely inappropriate, but unable to stop himself.

"She might still pull through this; she's still breathing, her hearts beating. She's Maya, Josh, she doesn't just give up and if anyone should get a miracle, it's Maya," Auggie pulled him back into reality.

 _"You need to stop doing this to yourself," Riley informed him, the minute he had pulled the front door open. The last time that he had checked, Riley was in Washington, which doesn't account for how she ended up here._

 _"Doing what?"_

 _"You saved Maya from her miserable marriage and after everything was said and done, she went back to her modeling career, which wasn't what she promised you. Now, you're depressed and I heard from your neighbor that you haven't left your house in a week," Riley informed him, stepping under his arm and into his home._

 _"What are you doing here?" Josh questioned, watching as she immediately started grabbing takeout containers from his kitchen table and taking them into the kitchen to throw away._

 _"I've spent the last week camped out on Maya's couch and I can't spend another one," Riley revealed, leaning against his kitchen counter, as she spoke the words, "I figured that misery loves company."_

 _"Maya told you that I was miserable?" he asked, trying to keep up with her._

 _"She didn't have to, I know what it's like to love someone who can't keep their promises," Riley offered, turning around._

 _"Did you leave Lucas?" Josh questioned, the shock of the idea, enough to pull him out of his own problems._

 _"No, I'm just, taking a break," she replied, turning her back to him, as she started scrubbing the sink with a washcloth that he'd left over the faucet._

 _"Riley," he stepped forward, his hands reaching out to comfort her._

 _"Don't, please," she whispered, pulling away from him, "If you touch me I'm going to breakdown and I don't want to breakdown right now, I just want to clean."_

 _"Okay," he agreed, letting his hands drop to his sides._

 _"I know that you think that Maya's just going to fall back into all of the patterns that she's been through before, but something about this divorce has changed her," Riley informed him._

 _"It hasn't, Riles. She still can't give up all of the bright lights and the shiny distractions," he disagreed, sinking down onto the tiles at her feet._

 _"Maybe not all at once, but she's changing."_

 _"How can you tell?" Josh asked, leaning his head against the cabinets behind him._

 _"Because she's painting again."_

There are moments in life that you will forever remember. You'll know exactly where you were; what it smelled like, what you were wearing. Sometimes, they're world events and other times they're personal. This one just happened to be both.

He was sitting on the couch with Auggie when they receive the news. Auggie had popped in a DVD that neither of them were watching and night had fallen outside, although they'd pulled the curtains hours ago.

Riley's plane is supposed to be landing soon and all he can think about, is getting Riley and Savannah to Maya because if anyone can get her to wake up, to remind her what she should fight for, it's them. And no mob of press and paparazzi are ever going to stop Riley from seeing her best friend.

Auggie's phone starts ringing and they both look at it, hesitating a second, before Auggie picks it up and answers. He strains his ears to hear the other end of the call, but he can't her anything and Auggie's answers are too short to determine what's going on.

Finally, he ends the call, the phone falling from his hands and into his lap.

"What did they say?" Josh questioned, somehow, already knowing the answer.

"We need to get to the hospital. The police have agreed to escort us inside," Auggie explained, standing up and retrieving his phone.

"Why? What's changed?" Josh needed Auggie to say the words.

"They're pulling her into surgery in an hour and this is our last chance to say goodbye."

 _He's been trained to see the flaws in people; to look at them and pick them apart, until they're pieces of what they used to be. He's made his career on selling something that no one can ever measure up to, but will never stop trying to achieve, anyway. He lies to himself and says that if he weren't doing it, someone else would be, but that only pushes away the guilt for so long._

 _He watches Maya surveying herself in the mirror, a frown pulling at her face, as she sucks in her stomach and traces her index finger over the wrinkles that are starting to appear around her mouth and eyes. And, he can't help feeling like he's one of the monsters that convinced her to look at herself with criticism and judgement. How many other people that he loves are looking in their mirrors and doing the exact same thing?_

 _Her eyes meet his through the reflection and she purses her lips, "I'm fighting a losing battle with time."_

 _"You're gorgeous," Josh disagreed, his hands running over the lens on the camera that he had just secured._

 _"I never thought I was going to grow old," Maya admitted, dropping her hands and crossing the studio to where he was sitting, "I mean, everyone does, but I just never thought it applied to me."_

 _"Maya, you're in your early thirties," Josh reminded her, noting the darkness that lingered in the back of her eyes._

 _He'd meant to make her feel better with the statement, but her frown, only becomes more pronounced, as her eyes drop to the floor. The silence stretches heavy between the two of them._

 _"How do you want me, Mathews?" Maya forced a smile, moving in front of the backdrop that he'd set up in the center of the room._

 _It's a loaded question. He's spent years chasing her, accepting every piece of her that she would let him have and forgiving her for every time that she pushes him, away. He'd thought they'd had a future together, once, when she'd agreed to leave this world, only to return to it as soon as the dust settled. But, it's moments like this when he realizes that she's entirely with him, her presence filling the entire room. And a second of having her with him, almost makes up for a lifetime of being without._

 _"Exactly the way you are," he admits and her smile goes from forced to genuine, as she looks at him with warmth and what he could almost trick himself into believing is love._

 _"Promise?" Maya asked, spinning under the lights, as he immortalizes the beauty of the moment in film._

 _"Cross my heart," he returned_

 _He's been trained to pick out the flaws in every person that sits in front of his lens and he knows that Maya has them, but, the problem has always been, that he can never really_ see _them in her. He's never been able to pick Maya apart because, to him, she's perfect._

Her heart beats a steady rhythm from the machine beside her, as he enters the room. Auggie had tried pleading with the doctors for more time, until Savannah and Riley got there, but it was a lost cause. Farkle had been the first to enter the room and talk to her, followed by her mother and Shawn, and, now, he was getting a moment, but he's not entirely sure what to say.

His hand reaches out to grab hers, his thumb slowly stroking the side of her hand, as he looks at her one more time.

A series of moments of them together run through his mind and he closes his eyes, as he remembers the way she feels in his arms, her lips pressed against his. He tries to remember her laugh and the look in her eyes whenever they would meet his across a crowded room.

"We'll always have Paris," he whispered, his voice cracking, as suppressed tears burned the back of his eyes.

He's not sure why the words rise to his mind, but her voice echoes in his head, clear and sweet, "I'm playing the long game."

* * *

 **I got an overwhelming response to the first chapter, so I've decided to continue. This is one of those stories that won't entirely make sense, until we've gotten to the end and everything has been revealed, so stick with me and feel free to ask questions(And make predictions, because I love seeing what people pick up on), although I'm going to try not to give anything away.**

 **Thanks for reading and I would love it if you would review!**

 **Next Time on _Infamy:_ In an attempt to make sense of Maya's death, Riley goes on a search for the events leading up to it.**


	3. Episode Three: Sleepless Beauty

**_"There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless."-Simone de Beauvoir_**

* * *

 _"Away," is the only coherent thought in her mind and it propels her every action; the need to put distance between herself and everything that's behind her. She can't breathe, she can't move, she can't process; all she can do is run._

 _The outlines of things fly passed her, but it's too dark to make out what they are. She knows that everything is moving too fast. She needs to slow down and think; she needs to make sense of what is happening, but she knows that time is running out and she's afraid that the loss of motion will lead to something truly catastrophic happening._

 _Though, she can't escape the feeling that something bad will happen, regardless of what her next choice is._

 _Then, suddenly, her entire body is being forced forward and violently back. She hits her head against something hard in front of her and the pain is sudden and sharp._

 _The blackness surrounds her like tar; too thick and sticky to slip out of and the stench of it is overwhelming. Her head is pounding and something wet is making its way down her arm, but she can't see and she can't escape the sound of her heart beating desperately in her chest._

 _"I've got a pulse," someone shouts and she feels something cold pressing against her neck._

 _"We're going to want to get a backboard, one wrong move and we could leave her entirely paralyzed," a new voice suggests._

Riley's eyes snapped open and she turned onto her back, her eyes quickly running over the room around her. It was dark and she could just make out the glow of the alarm clock on the bedside table that was telling her that it was 3:13 A.M.

It's not the first time she's awakened from this particular nightmare, but it had been long enough that she'd thought she'd left it behind, somewhere. She was supposed to be making all kinds of fresh starts and moving on with her life, but waking up in this room is like waking up in the past.

She could hear the even breathing of Savannah coming from beside her and she could almost pretend that it was Maya. Maybe, they were back in her childhood bedroom and she would discover that this reality was really the dream.

She brushed the hair out of her face, as she sat up, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark room. The curtains were pulled and the only light came from the alarm clock and a hallway light that cast a sliver of yellow across the white-carpeted floor.

Savannah hadn't wanted to sleep alone and it had made sense for the two of them to share Maya's bedroom, while Farkle took the double bed in Savannah's room.

She'd been relieved to discover that while it had the lingering smell of the perfume that Maya had come out with the year before, the 800 thread-count sheets were recently changed and the decorations consisted of European cityscapes and Venetian Chandeliers. Unlike Maya's Hamptons home, a maid had taken care of any clothes that Maya might have left on the floor and it felt more like being in a hotel, then being in the private sanctuary of the recently deceased.

She slid out of the bed, the silk of her nightgown brushing against her legs, as it settled with her movements, and crossed the room. She flicked on the light in Maya's bathroom and gently closing the door behind her, careful to ensure that the sound wouldn't wake the sleeping teenager.

If she'd had any beliefs that she was tucked away in her childhood bed, they left, as she took in the sunken tub that could easily fit three people and the walk-in closet that held more designer labels than Bergdorf's carried.

But, they'd left Kansas behind a long time ago and the secret to going back required a lot more than the right pair of shoes.

Riley surveyed her reflection in the mirror, taking note of the bloodshot eyes and the dark rings that were forming around them. She'd lost quite a bit of weight recently and it was reflected in the sharp angles of her face and the bones that jutted out at her wrists.

She looked like a zombie; still living, if only in a loose and debatable definition.

She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands under the stream of water, splashing her face and effectively splattering the front of her nightgown in droplets of fluid.

She reached for a drawer, hoping to find a hand towel, and instead finding it filled to the brim with Maya's makeup. She tried another, which yielded a collection of medications. Riley picked them up, one at a time; finding sleeping pills, a bottle of caffeine capsules, a collection of vitamins, four different kinds of anti-aging creams, and a half-full bottle of anti-depressants, before she returned each of them to the drawer.

The next drawer, held a brightly colored array of washcloths and Riley grabbed one, pausing as something fell from within the folded cloth to the ground. She set the washcloth on the counter, before bending down and coming face-to-face with a pregnancy test.

* * *

 _"There's another one," Maya informed Riley, holding up the postcard, from the pile of mail that she had been sorting through._

 _Riley was sprawled out on the couch, one hand picking at the hole in upholstery and the other flipping the pages of the textbook that she had settled against her knees. She could just make out the gold of Maya's hair, from over the kitchen countertop that faced towards the living room, in the corner of her eye, as she glanced up from the book._

 _"Where has Farkle gone, now?" Riley questioned, setting the book aside, in favor of approaching the counter and taking it from Maya's extended hand._

 _They had a bulletin board hung up in the corner of the room, where they'd been tacking up the postcards that Farkle sent them and Riley slowly made her way over, as she took in the picture on the front._

 _"Taipei," Maya replied, unnecessarily, returning to sorting the bills and advertisements into piles._

 _"He's studying meditation," Riley added, as she scanned over the short message on the back, before she tacked it up._

 _"Do you think that means he's achieved inner peace, yet?" Maya asked, as Riley returned to the counter top and started flicking through the bills they'd received for the month._

 _"I'll ask the next time he emails me," Riley suggested._

 _"Hey, you have that thing, tonight, don't you?" Maya changed the subject._

 _"If by, 'thing,' you mean Mayor Nolan's reelection campaign, then, yes, I'm supposed to be making calls to remind people to vote," Riley replied._

 _Her National Politics teacher had pulled several strings to get her into the summer internship and she was balancing it between several summer classes and her once-a-week shift at_ Topanga's _. To anyone else it would have been an enormous load, but Riley was passionate about the things that she was doing and with a lot of organization was making it work._

 _"I've barely seen you since I got back from Rome," Maya complained, referencing where she'd spent the first half of her summer on a school-sponsored trip. It had been a late high school graduation present from Shawn and Katy and the longest amount of time the two girls had spent apart to date._

 _"I'm hoping that things will slow down a little in the fall," Riley offered, adding a letter to the pile that was designated for Maya, when she realized that it had been placed in the wrong pile._

 _"No, you're not. Admit it, you love being busy. You love the politics and the classes and the being an adult," Maya argued, raising an eyebrow, as she waited for Riley's response._

 _"What I don't love is the bills," Riley replied, "And, the limited amount of time I have to spend with Lucas. Speaking of which, I'm supposed to meet him for an early dinner before I go to campaign headquarters."_

 _"Do you think you could pick something up for me on your way back?" Maya questioned, keeping her voice deliberately nonchalant, as she moved over to the fridge and opened the door._

 _"What do you need?" Riley asked, setting the mail aside and following the blonde across the kitchen._

 _"A pregnancy test," Maya replied, off-handedly, slamming the fridge door and immediately making her way from the kitchen, through the living room and in the direction of her bedroom._

 _"Maya Penelope Hart?" Riley called, as she chased after her._

 _"It's not a big deal," Maya spun around to face her, her eyes pleading with Riley to go along with it._

 _"It's a pregnancy test," Riley pointed out, "And we're about to start our second year of college, Maya. A baby would be a very big deal."_

 _"It's probably nothing," Maya insisted, "I've just missed a couple of periods and I might have thrown up every day this week."_

 _"You haven't been seeing anyone," Riley offered, trying to remember the last date that Maya had been on and failing. She hadn't been seeing anyone since she'd gotten back from her trip and all of the pictures Maya had shown Riley showed her hanging out with two of the girls Maya had met in one of her art classes._

 _"I know," Maya admitted, "And I need you to not ask about this. Can you just pick up the test for me and make sure that I actually take it?"_

* * *

She's not sure how long she sits there staring at the test; water damage making, whatever the results had been, unreadable.

If Maya were pregnant, she would have called her. No amount of time or distance had ever been enough to keep them from sharing every important event and milestone in each other's lives. This test had to have been negative.

But, if it was, why would Maya have held onto it?

Riley slid the test back under the towels in the drawer and closed it.

* * *

Her feet pounded a staccato rhythm against the treadmill, each step reminding her of how long she'd felt like she was running without ever going anywhere.

The city was stretched out in front of her through the window that occupied an entire wall of the workout room. When she was younger, she'd been able to trace the entire New York skyline and pick out the buildings, as though it were the face of an old friend. But, now, the city, itself, is a stranger and everything about it leaves her feeling restless.

Her hair hit her back in a pace all its own and she could feel droplets of sweat running from her neck, down her back and getting absorbed in the fabric of her shirt.

"Couldn't sleep, either?" Farkle questioned and Riley hit the button to slow down.

"Maybe it's the time zones," Riley replied, settling into a walk and struggling to catch her breath.

"Maybe," Farkle returned, looking at her with uncertainty in his eyes.

She'd left a note taped to the fridge, so that Farkle and Savannah would know where she went. And she'd sent a text message to Tessa, to inform her that she would let the bodyguard know when Riley decided to leave Maya's building.

"You told me that the investigation into what happened to Maya lasted twenty-four hours?" Riley questioned, hitting the stop button and letting her entire body slide off the treadmill, before she caught her balance on the padded flooring.

"They got the results on Maya's blood test at the hospital and it clearly showed an elevated blood-alcohol level, which combined with her anti-depressants to cause a fatal stroke. No one could have known how much alcohol it would take to do that," Farkle informed her, "Believe me, I've tried to think of every scenario around this, but Maya went against her doctor's orders and it had consequences."

"It doesn't make any sense," Riley's gaze drifted back to the skyline.

"It never does," Farkle offered, his eyes taking on a faraway haze that suggested he was fighting his own demons.

"Who was in charge of the investigation?" Riley wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Riles," he cautioned, "Even if you do find whatever it is you're looking for, it won't change, anything."

"I need some answers," Riley replied, "Who was it?"

"A familiar face," Farkle gave in, reaching into the pocket of his day-old jeans and holding a business card out to her.

* * *

 _If she were being honest with herself, she'd imagined this situation before. She might have even had an entire speech memorized for what to do if it happened in high school, but they're both adults, now. She's not sure that the speech applies._

 _She sits biting her thumbnail and watching the clock on her phone, as Maya paces, restlessly, across the length of the bathroom._

 _The test looks completely innocent from where it's been set on the counter; like it might not be the bearer of life-altering news._

 _"How much longer?" Maya questioned, her eyes looking everywhere other than the direction of the little, plastic stick._

 _"Thirty seconds," Riley replied, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning back, further against the back of the closed toilet._

 _"Distract me," Maya requested, sinking into a heap on the floor, as exhaustion finally caught up with her._

 _"I'm changing my major," Riley offered, her heart not really in the conversation._

 _"Again?"_

 _"I just feel like, I might be going into teaching more to please my father, than out of any real love for it," Riley replied._

 _"You know he doesn't care what you go into, as long as you're happy," Maya reminded her, leaning her head back against the wall._

 _The timer went off and they both looked at the phone that was in Riley's hand._

 _"Moment of truth," Riley offered, turning off the alarm and sliding the phone back into her pocket._

 _"It's going to be negative," Maya closed her eyes, not making any move to get up from the floor._

 _"Maya," Riley sighed, her eyes having already looked at the results._

 _Maya's eyes slowly opened and she pulled herself up from the floor, crossing the distance to the counter and picking up the test._

 _"What do I do?" Maya whispered, her hands shaking, as she stared at the results._

 _"I don't know," Riley admitted, letting her feet drop to the floor._

* * *

She traced the jagged scar on the inside of her wrist with her thumb, as she listened to the second hand of the clock that hung above the door. She's pretty sure that this room is used for meetings because it lacks the two-way glass that she would expect of an interrogation room, though she can't shake the feeling that she's being watched, regardless.

There had been eyes on her from the moment she had entered the precinct, leaving Tessa at the front desk, as she was escorted into this room. Heads had turned as she'd passed through the maze of desks and she couldn't help wondering what they were really seeing, who they were seeing.

She self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and straightened her posture, folding her hands on her desk.

She hadn't seen Charlie Gardner, since they'd graduated from high school. She hadn't even known that he'd become a police officer. She's not sure what she expects after sixteen years, but he still wears the same haircut and his eyes are the same penetrating brown. She used to look into them and think that he was seeing through her, in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, which probably helped in his line of work.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he entered the room, carrying two cups in his hands and setting one down in front of her, "It's not every day, we entertain a princess."

"I'm not a princess," Riley automatically corrected him, folding her hands on the table.

"I don't think the rest of the world has caught on to that distinction," he informed her, setting a manila envelope on the table between them.

Her eyes immediately dropped down to the ring that was settled on her left hand and she placed her right hand over it, feeling the diamond and setting dig into her skin, until it hurt.

"I'm sorry about Maya, I know how close the two of you were," Charlie offered, sincerely.

"Are," Riley corrected him, "I don't think our relationship is the kind of thing that ends with death."

"Right, I'm sorry," he paused, looking uncomfortable for the first time, since this conversation had started, "You know, when I found out it was her, I asked to be assigned to this? It just didn't seem real. One minute we're all kids and the next Maya's on the cover of half the magazines I see and you're on the others."

"I guess you never know where you're going to end up," Riley sighed, closing her eyes, as she struggled to keep the memories at bay.

She's waiting for him to push; to ask about her divorce, or whether she was pregnant, or whether her decision to marry James was really a political statement against her ex-husband. However, he surprises her.

"On the phone, you said you had some questions," he reminded her and she forced her attention back onto the purpose of this hastily arranged visit.

"While you were investigating, did you find any reason to believe that Maya could have been pregnant?" Riley questioned, unable to meet his eyes, as she asked.

"The short answer, is that we didn't. The long answer is that our budget was cut after this last election cycle. We have to be able to justify every test we run, every second of time an ME spends on a body, every second of our own time. Not to mention, the significant amount of pressure there was to eliminate the possibility of foul-play before Maya's organs were no longer viable. We conducted all of the interviews the day she was admitted and with the hospitals insistence that it was accidental, there wasn't anything we could do at that point. After her body was released to us, we ran the tests to confirm the hospital's diagnosis, the ME went in and confirmed that Maya Hart died of a stroke, and we ruled it an accidental overdose. We weren't looking for anything, else."

"Did you search her home?" Riley questioned, knowing that there hadn't been anything in Maya's apartment that looked out of place.

"We went to make sure that there wasn't forced entry and to talk to her neighbors, but she'd just gotten in from a flight that morning and had been gone for a week. Any evidence would have been on her," he explained, leaning back in his seat.

"Where was she flying in from?" Riley questioned, latching on to the new information.

"Nevada," he opened the file, sliding out a credit card transaction sheet and sliding it over to her, "She had a driver waiting for her when she landed and had them drop her off at her publicist's office. After that, she checked into The Four Seasons, with her credit card, and was found unresponsive, the next morning."

He pulled a picture of the hotel room and Riley noted the Lois Vuitton carry-on, which was set at the head of the bed. The covers were wrinkled, but didn't look slept in and a half-empty, clear bottle, of what looked like vodka was set on the bedside table.

"Doesn't exactly look like enough to kill someone, does it?" Riley questioned, noting that the scene she was seeing looked a lot different than the one that had been painted in the press. How was anyone supposed to know what was real and what wasn't, when the story changed with every person that she talked to?

"It wasn't just the alcohol that killed her," he reminded her, tucking the picture back into his file.

"Why would she check into a hotel and not just go home?" Riley pointed out, trying to make the puzzle pieces connect in her head.

"She had just found out that she was being dropped by Milo Cavanaugh from fashion week because he was going in a different direction with his models," he revealed.

"So, you think she was depressed and decided to kill herself?" Riley offered, bluntly, deliberately looking away from him.

"No, the problem with this situation are that there are a million motives for murder or for suicide, but none of them add up. She knew that drinking alcohol with her antidepressants was dangerous, but she couldn't have known how much alcohol to drink to cause a stroke. She was surrounded by intrigue, but her death is pretty straightforward. We ruled it accidental."

"It just doesn't make any sense," Riley repeated her earlier sentiment.

"Did she tell you that she was pregnant?" Charlie pressed, the interest in his eyes evident.

"No, I found a pregnancy test in her bathroom early this morning," Riley explained, looking away, as she shifted through everything that she'd been told, everything she'd known, trying to make it all fit together in her mind.

"That doesn't mean it was hers or that it was even positive. She has a daughter, doesn't she?" Charlie pointed out and Riley bristled under the patronizing tone in his voice.

"Savannah, is fourteen years old."

"If I remember, correctly, you and Lucas were pretty serious when you were fourteen," he reminded her and she winced at the mention of Lucas's name. Her nerves were already tightly wound and this wasn't helping.

"Not _that_ serious," Riley stood up from the table, pulling her jacket more tightly around her, as she prepared to leave.

"Riley?" he stopped her and she slowly turned around, "The one thing we can't explain is the 911 call. Officially, we said it was a maid that found her, but the call was placed from her own cell phone and we can't find the phone. All we know, is that the call came from a man."

"You think she was meeting someone," the pieces finally solidified, becoming a hazy picture.

"I think it was an accidental overdose," he repeated, "But we keep all collected samples for ten years after a case is closed, just in case someone decides to reevaluate it. If you want me to have them check to see if she was pregnant, I'll do it, for old times' sake."

"I would appreciate that," Riley brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"If you're really going to look into this; you should prepare yourself to find something that you might not like," Charlie warned her, "People are never exactly who we want them to be."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You have a number that I can call?" he questioned.

"I'll be with Farkle, he said he gave you his," Riley replied, turning back to the door and heading out through the rows of desks.

Tessa was waiting just outside the doors for her and easily fell into step beside her.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Tessa questioned, as she led Riley to the town car that was waiting for her at the curb.

"Not yet," Riley replied, slipping into the car and smoothing her skirt across her lap, "But I'm going to."

* * *

 _She awakens to the sound of Maya throwing up in the bathroom across the hall from her room and she quickly, peels the covers back on her bed and crosses over to where Maya is hunched over the toilet._

 _Riley's hands reached out to pull Maya's hair back and she tried not to look to closely at the contents that were vacating Maya's stomach. As close as they were, there were some experiences that she really didn't feel the need to share in._

 _Finally, Maya fell back onto her heels, wiping her mouth with a piece of toilet paper and flushing the toilet._

 _"How do you feel?" Riley took inventory of the blonde, noting her pale complexion and the way she gasped to get air back into her lungs._

 _"Pregnant," Maya dead-panned, pushing herself back until she hit the wall and was able to stretch her feet out in front of her._

 _Riley rotated her own body around, settling against the wall and letting Maya lean against her shoulder._

 _She hadn't been able to get Maya's news off of her mind for the last few days, though she wasn't any closer to knowing what Maya should do. Katy had been letting them stay in the apartment for a portion of the rental price, since she'd moved upstate with Shawn, but that didn't mean that their expenses weren't piling up and a baby would drastically add to those._

 _"If this was you, what would you do?" Maya asked, looking at Riley with vulnerability in her eyes._

 _"You know I'd keep it," Riley replied, not having to think through her answer, "But, I, also, know that Lucas would be there, every step of the way."_

 _"And me," Maya reminded her._

 _"And you," Riley agreed, her hand stroking Maya's shoulder._

 _"You want to know something crazy?" Maya questioned, biting her lip._

 _"Yeah," Riley replied, feeling drowsiness starting to set in._

 _"This last year, I've felt really lost. Art has always been my outlet, but the more classes that I take, the more I wonder whether I wanted to be an artist because it was the first thing that I found that I really felt good at, or if it was because I loved art enough to make a career out of it. There are so many paths that I feel like I could take, but I'm not sure which one is the right path for me. Does that make any sense?" Maya paused to gauge Riley's reaction._

 _"It makes a lot of sense," Riley replied, knowing that Maya had watched Riley's own struggle with figuring out what she wants._

 _"This baby isn't a path that I would have chosen for myself, it's not a direction that I even considered going in, but the more I think about it, the more it feels like a sign. I've had no idea where to go with my life, but this unplanned pregnancy feels right, like it was supposed to happen. And, that's crazy, right?"_

 _"That sounds like something that I would say," Riley smiled, watching as Maya's free hand moved to settle across Maya's lower abdomen._

 _"You taught me to trust in the universe," Maya reminded her, "And, I have no idea how this is going to work or if I'm going to raise the baby myself or give it up for adoption, but I think this is the journey that I'm taking for the next nine months."_

 _"That_ we're _taking," Riley corrected her._

 _"I was hoping that you would say that," Maya admitted._

 _"Ring power?" Riley held up her hand and Maya instantly raised her own and threaded her fingers with Riley's._

 _"Ring power."_

* * *

She'd never given much thought to what would happen to her when she died. She'd given plenty of thought to death and dying; whether she'd go of liver failure, or kidney failure, or a fatal car accident. Maybe, she'd drop out of the sky like Farkle's parents.

She liked to believe that whatever death they had, had been instant and painless, that they hadn't realized what was happening, until they were gone. Although, it was far more likely that they'd had a long way to fall from those great heights and they'd died watching the plane lose altitude and knowing that there was nothing that they could do about it.

Was that how Maya felt? Surrounded by pressures and expectations, watching her career slip away from her.

The idea was too painful to allow herself to dwell on.

If…when she married James, there would be a state funeral and she would be buried in the family cemetery, but she's not sure that she wants her final resting place in a foreign country.

Maybe it wouldn't feel so foreign by then.

"Riley?" Farkle reached out to grab her hand and she blinked to find herself back in the office of Maya's publicist, Noelle.

"Sorry, I was thinking," Riley admitted, tucking her hair behind her ears, as she focused back in on the conversation taking place around her.

"Maya didn't leave behind any funeral plans," Ava explained, patiently, from where she was sitting in a chair that had been dragged in from outside of the private office in an effort to accommodate everyone in the room.

It was a nice office, as far as offices went. Several landscape paintings hung on the wall and a large, mahogany desk sat in the center, that Noelle was seated behind. Farkle was seated next to Riley on a couch that made an, "L," with the desk and gave a good three feet of walking space between the two halves of the room. Katy and Shawn sat in two chairs that lined the wall by the door. Ava had squeezed a chair in front of the desk, and while they couldn't fit many more people, they all had their own space.

"We've arranged to have her service held in the Frank E. Campbell chapel, before her body will be taken to the Shaarey Pardes Accabonac Grove Cemetery for a graveside of close friends and family, and her burial," Noelle explained, reading off of a notepad that she had open on her desk, "We believe that it would be most appropriate, to have Maya's parents speak at the funeral, and a eulogy read by her daughter."

"No," Riley offered, crossing her legs, as everyone turned to look at her.

"What part of that do you oppose?" Noelle asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Maya didn't want her mother to have custody of her daughter, I highly doubt that she would want Katy to speak. And you're not assigning anything to Savannah, until we've talked to her," Riley announced, her foot bouncing in agitation.

"Riley," Shawn rebuffed her, his hand reaching out to grab Katy's, as Katy's eyes filled with tears.

"This isn't about _us_ ," Riley snapped, "This isn't going to be another grand production, where we all pretend to like each other and tell pretty lies about Maya's life. Do you, honestly, think that you could say anything about the person that Maya was when she died?"

"She was my little girl," Katy reminded her, not bothering to wipe at the tears that were running down her face.

"There was a reason she didn't talk to you and we're not going to forget that, just because she's gone."

"Riley," Farkle stopped her, with a hand on her arm.

"She deserves one day that isn't filled with lies, we deserve one day to grieve without pretending," tears ran down Riley's own cheeks and she reached up to brush them away.

"Excuse us for a minute," Farkle led Riley from the room, taking her down the hallway and pausing when they were out of the vicinity of where anyone could hear them.

"You know that I'm right," Riley insisted, when they had come to a stop.

"I know that Maya still talked to Shawn and that she took Savannah to see Katy every Christmas. I know, I wasn't there for what happened, but, I think, that Maya was trying to let it go, Riles. What's the point of continuing to punish Katy? It won't bring Maya back," Farkle offered, gently, as Riley struggled to compose herself.

"I know that nothing is going to bring her back," Riley snapped, her grief giving way to anger, "But, if we do this the way that Maya's publicist wants to do this, Maya's funeral won't be about Maya. It will become distorted and twisted and there will be no peace."

"When people look back at my parents, they see the love story. I remember the yelling, the punched walls, and the times my mother stormed out threatening to never come back. I could go out and shout that from the rooftops, but what would that accomplish? People will see what they want to see and that's very rarely the truth," Farkle's voice trailed off at the end, as he turned away from her to face the wall.

"So, the truth doesn't matter, then?

"You will never get people to see Maya the way that you want her to be seen and trying will not bring you peace; this funeral isn't going to bring you peace. Your problem, Maya's problem, is that you've always been looking for it in all the wrong places," Farkle offered, the muscles in his back, tensed against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"I didn't ask for the life that I have," Riley reminded him, feeling like she was seeing herself through his eyes, for the first time. She'd believed that she could bridge the distance between the two of them, but it's in this moment that she realizes that there are more miles then she'd initially thought and it was entirely uphill.

"You may not have asked for it, but you chose it," his words sounded incredibly loud in her ears, though she knew that he hadn't raised his voice, and she found herself feeling small, as she realized that whatever comradery they'd had the last few days was an illusion devised by her nostalgic mind.

* * *

 _Riley paced the hallway, making a loop from the kitchen, passed the couch, down to Maya's room and back, before beginning the cycle all over again. She'd been able to distract herself with school, all day, but she knew that Maya would be getting back any minute from her trip to see her mother and she had this nagging feeling in her gut that things weren't going to go well._

 _She jumped at the sound of a door slamming as Maya let herself in._

 _"Well?" Riley questioned, wrapping her arms around herself, as she tried to gauge where the blonde's head was at._

 _"She accused me of throwing my life away," Maya admitted, biting her lip as she spoke, "She said that she didn't spend her life working double shifts at the diner, holding down multiple jobs, so that I could end up in the same situation that she was in."_

 _"I'm sorry, Maya," Riley sighed._

 _"I knew she wasn't going to be happy," Maya offered, crossing the room and sinking down on the edge of the couch._

 _"Maybe, she just needs some time to get used to the idea," Riley suggested, taking the seat next to her._

 _"Maybe," Maya agreed, a distant looking in her eyes suggesting that she wasn't convinced._

* * *

The Bay Window has been gone for a while, now, but that doesn't stop her from walking by her childhood home. She swears that she can see the silhouettes of two little girls sitting in the window above the fire escape and she wonders if she's getting a glimpse into a frozen moment of time.

She'd walked out of the building, directly after her conversation with Farkle and been too out of it to go looking for Tessa. She'd started wandering and, somehow, found herself here.

She pretends that she's climbing up and letting herself in through the window, which is acting as a portal back to the past. She's not sure what she'd warn her past self about, but maybe she'd find some way to stop all of this.

"I thought I would find you here," a familiar voice greeted her and she spun around, nearly losing her balance.

"Uncle Josh," she greeted him, taking in the stubble that he hadn't bothered to shave and the grief, which reflected from his eyes.

"How's Savvy?" he asked, wrapping an arm around Riley's back and guiding her away from the window and up the street.

"She's holding it together. I get the feeling that it hasn't entirely sunk in, yet," Riley replied, staring at the cement.

"I thought about dropping by, I just," Josh paused and Riley watched as he struggled to control the emotions he was feeling, "I went back to my apartment…after…..and I sat down and all of a sudden I'd lost several days."

"It's okay," she wished that she believed the words.

* * *

 _Topanga's_ was the same as it had always been, although it had gone through a change of ownership. Topanga and Cory had moved home to Philadelphia to take care of Amy after Allen's death and hadn't come back, even after Amy had joined her husband. They were currently living in her grandparent's house and Cory was teaching at his old high school.

Josh let them both through the front door, ignoring the sign that insisted the bakery was closed.

"Hey," Auggie moved around the corner, pulling the both of them into a hug.

"Auggie-Doggie," Josh ruffled his nephew's hair, when Auggie pulled back and released them.

"You know my wife is the only one allowed to call me that," Auggie reminded him, leading them to the bar, where he'd already set out three slices of cheesecake.

"Auggie's legally married, I'm divorced, Josh had a picture on the cover of _Time's_ magazine. When did we all get so old?" Riley asked, slipping into one of the chairs and claiming a fork from Auggie, who had resumed his station behind the counter.

"The last time we blinked," Josh offered, playing with the food on his plate.

"We should stop doing that," Riley suggested, setting down her fork, as she lost her appetite.

They sat in silence for a moment and Riley ran her hands over the countertop, remembering how much time she'd spent sitting there in her youth.

Josh was right, they years had run away from them, until even the memories had become fuzzy. It was like trying to look through the old glass that she sometimes saw at historical sites; it was filled with waves and bubbles that made it impossible to get a clear view of the world outside.

"Are we going to talk about Maya?" Auggie asked, bluntly, breaking the silence.

"She's dead," Riley offered, wondering why the words made the fact seem less real, somehow.

"Yeah," Auggie looked away, and they fell back into the silence, unable to think of anything else to say.

"How are you and Ava?" Riley changed the subject, when the silence got too loud.

"You want a pretty lie or the truth?" Auggie replied, leaning his forearms against the counter and placing his head in his hands.

"The truth," Josh suggested, still fixated on the food that he wasn't eating.

"I want children and she doesn't. It's all I think about and it's all she refuses to talk about," Auggie sighed.

* * *

 _Their fingers hadn't really fit together when they'd started dating. Hers had been too small and his too big, they'd become sticky with sweat whenever they tried to lace them and the action had caused anxiety to settle into her chest, until she couldn't think straight._

 _But, now, they twine together in a way that comes from doing the action so many times, over so many years, that they had simply grown together._

 _"You want to talk about it?" Lucas questioned, glancing over at her, as they continued at a casual stroll down the street._

 _"I'm happy for Maya, you know I am," Riley replied, swinging their clasped hands between them._

 _"I don't doubt that you are, you just haven't said a word since dinner, when she announced to all of us that she was pregnant," Lucas pointed out._

 _"It's petty," she warned him, glancing up to catch his gaze. There's always a moment when their eyes meet, where her breath is stolen from her at the affection that reflects back at her in his eyes. They've said, "I love you," plenty of times, but the words don't seem to convey the depths of his feelings when he's truly looking at her._

 _"I don't care," he promised._

 _"I guess, I just thought that it would be us," Riley admitted, biting her lip in embarrassment, as she waited for his response._

 _"To get pregnant in our second year of college?" he clarified._

 _"No, maybe, I don't know. I just thought that out of our group, we would be the first ones to have a baby," Riley explained._

 _"Do you want to have a baby?" he came to an abrupt stop, turning to face her._

 _"Lucas," Riley looked around them, not wanting to have this conversation in the middle of the street and, not sure that she wanted to have this conversation at all._

 _"Riley," he echoed her name, reaching up with his free hand to cup her face and gently hold her head, so that she couldn't turn away._

 _"I want_ you _," Riley's squeezed their joined hands between them._

 _"That doesn't answer my question," Lucas refused to back down, his eyes looking like jade in their intensity._

 _"If I tell you, right now, that, yes, I want a baby, what are you going to do? I'm at Columbia and you're at Princeton and we barely see each other," Riley reminded him, "We don't have the time or the money to take care of a child."_

 _"I didn't say that we did, I just don't want this to be another thing that comes between us," Lucas's thumb brushed her cheek, before he let his hand fall back to his side._

 _He'd been more than understanding, when they hadn't gotten to spend as much time together over the summer as what they had planned. But, she's always been able to see his feelings written across his face. It's fear disguised as frustration, that she was choosing to put other things before them._

 _"It's not that I want to have a child," Riley admitted, turning to continue pulling him forward again._

 _"Then what is it?"_

 _"I would never want to take anything away from Maya, but, sometimes, it feels like we're in a competition. She was the first one to stop sleeping with a nightlight, she got her ears pierced first, she brought home the first, "A," in high school and I brought home a, "D." She, even, got to spend the summer in Europe, while the farthest I've traveled is Texas. The one thing that I've had going for me, is how well I've been able to do in college and with helping in the community. I, finally, started feeling like an adult, and now she's having a baby, which is one of the most adult things you can do, and I feel like I'm falling behind again. She's going to have this tiny person that calls her Mommy and I'll still be trying to decide on a major."_

 _"You know that Maya didn't get pregnant just to have something to hold over you, right?" Lucas checked and she shot him a glare._

 _"I told you that it was petty," Riley reminded him, dropping his hand._

 _"Riley," Lucas grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him again, "It might feel like a competition, but it isn't. Yes, Maya's having a baby before you, but she has no idea what she's doing and the only way she's going to be able to pull this off is with your help."_

 _"I have no idea what I'm doing, either," Riley pointed out, "I don't know how to help Maya, I'm just making it up as I go along."_

 _"Well, it's working," he smiled and she rolled her eyes, "And it's good practice."_

 _"Practice for what?" Riley led them the last few yards to the entrance of her building._

 _"For when it's our turn," he replied, nonchalantly, and she felt her heart lurch forward in her chest._

 _"You sound pretty confidant, Friar," Riley teased, letting them in the entrance and starting up the stairs._

 _Lucas waited, until she'd unlocked the front door and let both of them, inside, before he answered her, "Having kids was never something that I really thought about, until I met you. But, I've seen how you are with them and, now, I can't imagine a world in which you aren't the mother of my children. You'll be a mother, someday, Riley, but it's going to be like everything else in our relationship and happen in its own time, the right time."_

 _"Your moment, will be your moment," Riley supplied, kicking off her shoes by the door and hanging her purse on a hook._

 _"I think in this case, it would be more ours, than mine," Lucas corrected her, following her to the couch, where she curled up into his side and he wrapped his arm around her, "But I'll let you in on a secret."_

 _"I'm not very good with those, I tend to blurt them out," Riley pointed out, craning her neck, so that she could look up at him._

 _"You're welcome to blurt this one out to whoever you want to," he assured her._

 _"Alright," she agreed, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth._

 _"I intend to ask you to marry me the moment you have your diploma in your hand," he stated, confidently._

 _"Really?" she breathed, wondering why, after all this time, she still found herself taken off guard, every time he let her know that she was it for him._

 _"I mean, I want you to be ready and to be sure, but you've always been all I see when I look at the future."_

 _"I love you," she informed him, the words feeling insufficient for the feeling in her chest._

 _"I love you, too. Always have, always will," he promised._

* * *

Riley blinked and she was back at the bar, sitting next to Josh and watching Auggie shift uncomfortably in the silence.

"Riley, are you okay?" Auggie questioned, looking at her in concern, "You look kind of pale."

"It's just been a long couple of days," Riley offered, forcing herself to take even breaths, as her hands gripped the countertop in an effort to keep herself steady.

"I think we'd better get you home," Josh suggested, reaching out a hand to help Riley up.

"I'll see you at the funeral?" Riley turned her attention back to Auggie.

"If not sooner, Ava still has to talk to you about what Maya left you," Auggie pointed out, rounding the counter to give her a hug goodbye.

"Okay," Riley agreed, too tired to try and dig any information out of her younger brother.

"Hey, Riles?" Auggie called, as Josh led her out the door. Riley turned back to look at him, taken by the image of him all grown up and standing in the business that he'd taken over from their mother and made his own, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she smiled, tears burning in the corners of her eyes.

Josh led her out into the street and they fell into step together, her shoes clicking against the concrete. Her phone had been buzzing every few minutes, since she'd left the meeting and she knew that she could probably expect a reprimand from her security for running off without them, though she had sent a text to Tessa that she was with her family, as soon as she'd made it into the bakery.

She sent off another one, telling Tessa where to pick her up from, before shoving her phone back into her pocket.

"You don't think Maya really did this, do you?" Josh broke the silence.

"I don't know," Riley admitted, hesitating on how much she should tell him.

"I keep running through the last time that I saw her in my head," Josh admitted, "We were talking about trying a relationship, planning the future. She, even, told me that she wanted another child."

"When was that?" Riley asked, thinking about the trip to Nevada and Charlie's implication that she was meeting someone at the hotel.

"Last week," Josh supplied, "The last time I talked to her, we got into an argument. I wanted her to come with me to California, but she insisted that there was something else that she had to do. And, I thought that she was falling back into the same patterns as before; pull me in close, just to push me away the minute things seem real."

"I'm sorry," Riley sighed, as a black SUV pulled up the curb and Tessa opened the door to the backseat.

"You have more resources then I do, when it comes to looking into something like this," Josh pointed out, as she hesitated at the curb.

"What if I don't like what I find?"

"Her ex-husband hit her," Josh informed her, "I had the pictures of Maya's bruising on a flash drive that went missing last week, right after Maya and I parted ways."

"You think that she took it?" Riley suggested, wondering why the puzzle pieces kept multiplying faster than she could put them together.

"I think that there was more going on with her, then either of us knew," Josh admitted, "And I need to know what was truth and what was just a pretty illusion."

"Get in the car," Riley sighed.

* * *

 _"Do you have to go back, tonight?" Riley questioned, wanting to stay tucked under Lucas's arm until they both became parts of the couch that was slowly falling apart, but too much a part of the apartment to ever think about replacing._

 _"I have some time," Lucas assured her, his hand playing with the edges of her hair, "Do you want to watch something?"_

 _"Maya borrowed my laptop, earlier, but I can go get it," Riley suggested, sitting up and stretching. Maya had packed her own laptop in her checked luggage and it had, somehow, gotten broken along the way._

 _She wandered down the hallway and turned the doorknob to Maya's room, flicking on the light. It hadn't changed much since their teenage years. The walls were still covered in Maya's sketches and the bedspread was the same faded one that Maya had always had. Her clothes were sprawled out all over the floor and her suitcase sat in the middle of the room, only half-unpacked, although she'd been home for almost three months, now._

 _Riley's laptop was sitting on Maya's bedside table and she picked her way across the room to snag it. She picked it up and was surprised to see a postcard sitting on Maya's desk, with a picture of the Trevi Fountain on the front._

 _She, almost, unconsciously found herself picking it up and flipping it over. It was addressed to her and the message read, "Guess who I ran into in Rome? Miss You, Farkle."_

* * *

 **If you're waiting for a new chapter of LOT, it's mostly written and I'm in the polishing stages. There are a couple of scenes that I might rewrite and I'm a little concerned about the flow, so I have no idea when it will be up, but probably soon. I have some serious writers block when it comes to Heat Stroke and every time I sit down to write a chapter, I either end up writing for another story or hating everything that I've written. At this point, I'm concerned I'm going to finish LOT before I finish Heat Stroke, so I really have no idea what I'm doing for that.**

 **In other news, I wasn't able to get into all of the classes that I needed for summer semester, so I'm probably going to be able to get back onto a normal updating schedule for the summer and hopefully get some of these stories done. I'm, also, taking a fiction writing class, so, maybe, I'll have some original pieces to publish, as well.**

 **I would really love it if you would leave me a review and let me know what you think! Reviews really are a huge motivation to keep writing and I would really love to know what thoughts were running through your head for this chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Author's Note

**I am writing this note at a ridiculously late hour, so I apologize in advance for anything that seems out of place or doesn't make sense and for anyone who got their hopes up thinking that this is an update. I don't usually do this, my only exception is my Q and A chapter that I wrote in Laws of Timing, but I feel like I owed it to my readers to explain where my head is at.**

 **I will be the first to own up to how badly I've been at updating my stories, since I started around a year ago. I've pushed myself beyond the point of sanity when it comes to my studies and it has been an incredibly difficult school year. There have been moments where I've honestly been ready to completely drop out of school or give up on my major altogether. And, my writing has definitely suffered for it.**

 **Writing is something that I've done my entire life, before I could even actually form letters. I don't think I would have survived my childhood or my adolescence without books and without the worlds that I was able to create in my head. It's something that I will keep doing, even if no one ever reads anything that I write.**

 **But, I don't have any grand illusions that I could make a living off it, which is why I'm still in school. I love nursing; I love learning about how the human body works and I love knowing that I've made a difference in someone else's life. It was a career that chose me, rather than me choosing it, but it's, also, a career with a lot of responsibilities and expectations.**

 **I'm not denying that we want people who know what they're doing in the medical field, but the stance that a lot of teachers take of actively trying to make you quit, makes me incredibly sad. I don't know who's to blame here, but what these, "Hard Core," teachers are actually doing is asking their students to give up their compassion, their sensitivity, and their empathy and become something hardened that can regurgitate medical facts, without recognizing that people are more than their symptoms and more than their ailments. The fact that I have professors who will be fired, if a certain number of their students do not fail their classes, seems like an incredibly backwards system to me.**

 **And, that's what I've been up against this last year. It's been a lot of frustration, hours and hours of studying, and a lot of questioning of what I'm supposed to do with my life. On top of that, the school that I'm at has had their nursing program pretty much fall apart this last semester and I've realized that I'm probably going to have to transfer schools. So, I've been a stressed out nightmare, who thankfully has a family that's willing to sit through my mental breakdowns and remind me why I'm doing this in the first place.**

 **I started watching** ** _Girl Meets World_** **, like a lot of people, because of nostalgia. I grew up on Cory, Topanga, and Shawn, and getting a chance to revisit my childhood, was a pretty wonderful escape. The fact that I found Riley and her friends incredibly relatable was what led me into trying to write them. Their stories were often things that I'd experienced myself and, so, it was pretty natural for me to guess where they'd end up.**

 **Writing** ** _Laws of Motion_** **, I would watch episodes over and over again, in an effort to try and capture the character's voices. I haven't been able to do that these last few months and, so, I worry in my writing how true I'm staying to who these characters are. It's one thing to know the plot, but it's another to try and stick with the essence of who they are. And that's one reason why updates have been so spread apart, as I try to make sure that all of their voices are right.**

 **The good news is that I'm cutting back my workload this summer. The problem with knowing exactly where you want to go in life, is that it's easy to try and take the quickest route to getting there and I've realized that it's time to slow down and enjoy the journey. I'm, actually, not taking any science classes this summer and I'm taking just one class in the fall, which means that I'm going to have some real time to spend with my first love. I'd like to get** ** _Heat Stroke_** **and** ** _Laws of Timing_** **finished up before I start fall semester and the length of** ** _Infamy_** **is going to depend a lot on how many people will stick with me through it.**

 ** _Infamy_** **is kind of a dive into the great AU, OOC unknown and I knew that it was a gamble of whether anyone would actually read it when I started. There was a lot behind it, but there was definitely a part of me that looked at all of the stories coming out where one of them had become famous, or they were all spies, or the characters were being placed into another show or movie (90% of the time these stories were Lucaya, too, but I'm not going to delve into my thoughts on that) and I wanted to do something that incorporated the intrigue behind these situations, but painted them in a realistic light. Relationships that are put under the strain of public scrutiny have a very hard time lasting and the fame that we're all fascinated with, comes with a cost that I haven't seen written in the way that I'd like to see it covered. I've done some pretty extensive research into Marilyn Monroe, Princess Diana, Jacqueline Kennedy and their significant others for this story and I hope that it's something that is as captivating as exploring these themes has been for me. Also, I figured that this story has a pretty unique premise that I haven't actually seen done here before.**

 **Anyway, my point is that I haven't abandoned these stories. I would like to someday tackle an original piece of fiction and probably try and publish it through Amazon, but I haven't found an idea, yet, or the characters that are going to drive that particular venture. For now, I'm happy borrowing these characters and writing here.**

 **I'm at a point, where I'll guarantee that these three stories will be finished, but my continued writing in this world is really up to my readers and their willingness to continue reading (And commenting on) what I write. I know that there's a good chance that the show cancellation will lead to all of us moving on to something else, but I'm not ready to let go of it, yet, and my hope is that neither are you.**

 **Thanks to everyone that has ever reviewed, favorited, followed, and/or read one of my stories. Being able to put my writing out there and see that there are actually people who are willing to read it and who enjoy my writing style, has been huge in my development as a writer. You've given me the confidence and the motivation to keep pushing through writer's block and my crazy life to continue writing.**

 **So, let me get through my last final for the semester and I promise that I will sit down and spend some serious time finishing up my, "In progress," chapters and getting them out to you. Thank you for your patience with me and for your continued support. And, if there's anything that you'd like to see in my stories or in a one-shot let me know and I'll look at trying to incorporate it.**

 **Thanks Again,**

 **Poledra182**


	5. Episode Four: Last Call

_"My lover she's waiting for me just across the bar_  
 _My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking about a scar, and_  
 _I know I gave it to you months ago_  
 _I know you're trying to forget_  
 _But between the drinks and subtle things_  
 _The holes in my apologies, you know_  
 _I'm trying hard to take it back_  
 _So if by the time the bar closes_  
 _And you feel like falling down, I'll carry you home_

 _Tonight, we are young_  
 _So let's set the world on fire_  
 _We can burn brighter than the sun"_

 _-"We Are Young,"_ Fun.

* * *

 _Golden hair fanned out across a pillow, brown eyes meeting his from the bottom of a back stairwell, the undeniable and uncontrollable feeling of panic; choking him and leaving him unable to breathe._

The images are the first thing that comes to him, as his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the alleyway. He's sprawled out across the pavement, pain pulsing at his temples and the sky blurry above him. He can make out that it's gray with either pollution or the threat of rain, but it takes several blinks before his vision is clear enough for him to make out the individual bricks of the buildings that line either side of him.

To his left is the base of a rusting dumpster, which accounts for the smell that lingers in the air and he finds himself gagging, quickly turning over onto his side, as the contents of his stomach splatter the ground next to him.

He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his suit jacket, before stumbling to his feet, leaning on the dumpster for support. One hand searches his pockets for his phone, but all he finds is a cocktail napkin that bunches as he pulls it out to where he can read it in the dim lighting.

The name printed in ink, is a bar that's an old friend, one who he's made a point not to visit in some time.

 _His grandfather had been a medical examiner for the Navy. He'd claimed that your body was the only thing that couldn't lie; every scar, every wrinkle, every strand of hair told a story that was irrefutable fact. He'd gotten to watch his grandfather perform an autopsy, once. With careful precision, he had opened the body of a nameless soldier killed in combat and weaved a tale of the man's life like it was a bedtime story._

 _His hand taps a discordant rhythm against the hardwood of the bar, as he stares at the amber liquid in the glass sitting in front of him. He's not an alcoholic, he's had a drink here and there, but he's pretty sure that when he lies in the middle of an autopsy table, cut open and exposed for the world to see, they won't find any evidence of his drinking._

 _Your body can show plenty of your sins, but it can't show the lying, or the cheating, or the things he should have done. Then, again, maybe, someday, someone will cut open his heart and discover the truth of what's really in there. Ironically, it might be one of the few things that he's actually been honest about._

 _At least to himself._

 _There's faint music in the background that can barely be picked out among the voices, but he makes it a habit to drink alone. He may make a living off of being unable to keep anyone else's secrets, but he carefully guards his own._

 _He knows she's there from the moment she makes her way through the door; the dark hair and measured walk immediately catching his attention in the mirror that hangs above the bar. For a moment, he considers how long it would take him to duck into the crowd of people and slip out the back entrance, but he knows that he won't actually do it. He'll sit and listen and wake up hating himself in the morning, but that's never been enough to actually stop him._

 _"I thought I might find you here," she greeted him, slipping into the seat next to him and setting her clutch on the edge of the bar. Her dress is the stereotypical red dress; the kind with a plunging neckline that hugs every curve, before flaring out at the bottom and he's sure that his ex-wife could have easily offered the name of the designer and a ridiculous price that it must have cost._

 _He'd learned plenty of designers from his wife over the course of their miserable marriage. She'd recite the names with such reverence, as though that somehow justified the thousands of dollars being spent._

 _"What gave me away?" he questioned, leaning back, as he waited to see what game she was playing._

 _"You have a Gatsby complex," she informed him, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, "This is a Speakeasy, I did the math."_

 _"I don't believe you," he informed her, taking a sip of his drink. The liquid burned in his throat, but he quickly swallowed and waited for her answer._

 _"Would you accept that I know everything?" she suggested, leaning forward as if she were divulging some great secret._

 _"I'm sure you do," he conceded, deciding that it wasn't worth the argument. She had a brilliant mind, but he had a practical one and a way of knowing something almost as quickly as it happened, "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"_

 _"The last time we spoke I told you that people like us are the ones who write history," she reminded him, "I have some history in the making for you."_

 _She pried open the clutch and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the counter to him. The envelope is plain and white, looking entirely unassuming against the contrasting wood. He might have thought that it was nothing, if it weren't for the woman, who had just handed it over to him._

 _"You're leaking me information?" he asked, incredulously, unable to stop his hands from greedily reaching for the envelope._

 _"I know how much you love a fallen angel," she answered, slipping off of the stool and straightening the skirt of her dress, "I'll be in touch."_

 _She's gone as quickly as she appeared, leaving only the envelope as a sign that she wasn't some hallucination that was brought on by the alcohol. He smells the faintest trace of her Chloe, Eau De Parfum lingering against the envelope in his hand, as he holds it up to his nose, before slipping it into his pocket._

He stumbles his way out of the alley and into the street, struggling to see clearly through the fog of the memory. He hadn't been able to bring himself to return to the bar since that night, unable to remove the aftertaste of the events that had followed.

The napkin was a message and it felt heavy in his hand, as he made his way passed the shops that had yet to open for the day and in the direction of the nearest Subway station.

* * *

 _"I'm telling you, Zay, something isn't right about this."_

 _"Her blood alcohol level was .12. You've seen how she's been."_

 _"You called me irrelevant, you owe me."_

* * *

The pounding in his head has become more pronounced by the time he stumbles off the elevator and into his apartment. The entrance is lined in framed magazines; pictures of people who hate him, just as much as they love him, staring judgmentally at him as he shuffles in the direction of the kitchen.

This is what success is supposed to look like; the penthouse apartment with a view of the city skyline, the floor tiles, which were imported from Italy, the Armani suit that was stained from his time spent laying on the floor of an alley.

"Where have you been?" a woman rose from the barstool that she had been seated at. Her white, button-down shirt is untucked from her dress pants and her hair has fallen from its usual bun at the nape of her neck, "We've been trying to get ahold of you all night."

"Would you believe me if I told you I don't remember?" he questioned, shrugging his jacket off and letting it fall into a heap at his feet.

"You smell like a distillery," she wrinkled her nose, grabbing the jacket off the ground and folding it, as she followed him into his bedroom, "I thought you swore off drinking."

"So did I," he made his way into the bathroom and reached over the tub to turn on the shower, before turning around to face her. She wasn't meeting his gaze and her arms were folded tightly across her chest, a pose she took whenever she had bad news.

"Lauren?" he sighed.

"Kendall's flying home, she'll be here soon," Lauren offered, her eyes flickering up to meet his.

"Why is she flying home?" he asked, feeling each beat of his heart from within his chest. Kendall wasn't due back for another six months and they'd hardly left things on good terms. He doubted that there was much that could tear her away from her latest project.

"Riley's in the city," Lauren revealed, biting her lower lip between her teeth. The action makes her look younger than she actually is and it pulls at something in his chest.

"You sure about that? The only place she hates more than here is Washington DC."

"It's Maya," Lauren revealed.

It's one of those moments where he knows exactly what she's going to say before the words leave her mouth. It's an instinctual feeling of realizing that there had been a piece missing inside of himself, before he'd been made consciously aware of it.

His entire world feels as though it's on mute, as Lauren speaks the words, but he still knows exactly what they are as her mouth forms them.

He finds himself closing the door between the two of them, not aware of whether she backed out of her own volition or if he'd forced her into the action, as he removes the rest of his clothing and steps under the water spewing from the showerhead.

 _Piano music drifted from inside out to the patio and the sun glinted off of the water that stretched out in front of him. White, gauzy curtains floated in and out of the open doorway of the house and he could just make out Maya's figure through them, as she fluttered around the kitchen._

 _"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?" she questioned, as she rejoined him, settling down in the patio chair next to him and curling her feet under her body._

 _"A million-dollar view," he replied, leaning back and enjoying the feeling of the fading sun brushing against his face._

 _"It's funny, isn't it? How money can buy you the ocean outside of every window, the sound of waves beating against the shore, the smell of salt in the air, but it can't buy you true peace," she mused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear._

 _Maya's hair had become something iconic in her adult life. His magazine had run its own article, a handful of issues ago that had offered the secrets to mastering the blonde waves, though the secret was that it was mostly natural._

 _It hovered between shades of gold or honey, changing hues depending on the lighting. Though, Zay would guess that the captivation was in the untamable quality that she'd complained of in her youth; the curls that refused to straighten and the texture that was more coarse than soft. So, it's strange to see it in the fading sunlight, to be close enough to smell the vanilla that hovers in the air._

 _"I know that money isn't the source of happiness, but I like to believe that it's a down payment," he offered._

 _"And, are you?" her eyes traced his face, looking at him with genuine curiosity._

 _"Happy?" he questioned, waiting for her quick nod, "Sometimes."_

 _"I could almost forgive you," she admitted, the hint of a smile pulling at her mouth._

 _"I don't ask for forgiveness," he replied._

 _"Because it's a sign of weakness?" she mocked him, as he turned his attention from the ocean fully onto the blonde next to him._

 _"Because I know that I don't deserve it."_

A couple of weeks, shouldn't have been able to change that moment into a memory. In his mind, he can still see the blue of the ocean, reflected in the blue of Maya's eyes. She's breathing, close enough to reach out to touch.

The water burns his skin and stings his eyes, as he stares at the gray tiles of the shower. His entire body is shaking and it takes him a minute to realize that he's sobbing, unable to control the emotion that Lauren's statement had awoken in him.

Maya Hart was one of the few constant things that had remained in his life over the years. He'd hated her just as fiercely as he'd loved her, hated what she reduced him too, but never been able to walk away from her completely. They'd run in circles, playing games that hurt each other, more than it benefited them, but unable to stop or to let go.

"Zay?" Lauren's voice was muffled through the door.

"Yeah," he coughed in an attempt to cover up his loss of control.

"I just got a call that you left your phone and your wallet at the bar at The Four Seasons. Do you want me to run and pick it up?" she questioned, her voice containing a false sense of cheer.

"No, I'll go get it myself. Could you run by my office and retrieve my mail," he suggested, leaning his head against the cold tile of the wall.

"Alright, I'll be back," Lauren promised.

He reached out to turn off the water, before grabbing his towel from the rack just outside of the curtain. He ran it through his hair before wrapping it around his hips and moving to the mirror. He used the palm of his hand to wrap away the condensation and paused as he caught sight of himself.

Maya had been his first love. He'd loved her without thought, without effort. She'd challenged him in a way that no one else had and she'd broken him with the same careless abandon that had drawn him to her in the first place. She'd never been his, but she'd let him pretend.

And what a pretty illusion it had been.

 _"I don't love you," Maya informed him, pacing recklessly back and forth across the space of the hotel room. Her hair is a mess and her makeup is smeared across her face, but she seems too agitated to care about her appearance._

 _"I didn't say that you did," he sighed, placing his head in his hands from where he had been sitting at the foot of the bed._

 _It was their last spring break before they graduated from high school and Maya had been the one to suggest the road trip, insisting they just drive and see where they ended up. Zay suspected that Farkle had some kind of general plan in place, but he was letting them all live under the illusion that their journey was a random series of roads and coastline._

 _"No, you just said that you loved me," she returned, pausing as the weight of the words seemed to settle on her._

 _"Maya," he tried to stop her, pressing his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose._

 _"You said you wanted to hold hands, to go to movies together; that was the extent of this arrangement," she reminded him._

 _"You really think that was all that I wanted, Maya? I've never tried to push you, I've never asked for anything in return, but you had to have known that I expected for us to go somewhere."_

 _"Well, I didn't," Maya bit out, still unable to meet his eyes._

 _He's not under any grand illusion of what Maya feels for him. He'd declared himself a placeholder, someone to help her keep from being left out, but that didn't mean that he had any intention of staying that way._

 _Josh was a dream, a romantic fantasy, Zay was real and he had time on his side. He had been sure that given enough of it, she'd start to look at him as something_ more _. Still, he hadn't meant for the words to come out, now. He'd been planning to wait until graduation, when he could leave without looking back if she didn't feel the same._

 _"Maya," he sighed, just as a knock echoed through the room._

 _"That's Riley," Maya offered, making no move to go towards the door as her arms wrapped around herself._

 _"You should go," Zay suggested, staring intently at the carpet. He hadn't thought it was possible to lose his appetite, but it's gone, now, and all he wants to do is dive under the covers and avoid the walls that had been forced up between the two of them._

 _"I'm never going to be the girl that you want me to be," she informed him, her eyes falling to the floor._

 _"I've never asked you to be anything, Maya. I've always been willing to take you_ as you are _," he stood up, making his way towards the door. He could feel her eyes on his back, as he yanked the door open to reveal Farkle with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and his eyes downcast. He could probably hear them through the paper-thin walls._

 _"You ready to go?" Farkle questioned, looking passed Zay to where Maya was standing._

 _"Of course," Maya's voice was filled with forced enthusiasm and he could feel her cross the room and pause just behind his back._

 _He'd given four years of his life to her and he knew that they'd finally reached a crossroads. She was going to have to make a choice and he's pretty sure, in the back of his mind, he'd always known what that choice would end up being._

 _"You guys go, I'm going to wait here," Zay informed them, stepping to the side of the doorway to let Maya out._

 _"Zay," she breathed his name and he watched the emotions flicker through her eyes. Whatever pretenses she had put up, she did care, and, at least, that was something._

 _He reclaimed the door, pulling it halfway closed to assure the two that he was serious about his decision and Maya closed her eyes for half-a-second before she linked her arm through Farkle's and started guiding him away from the room._

 _He watched the fading sunlight hit the two of them for a moment, lighting Maya up in a heavenly glow as it highlighted the strands of gold in her hair and he found himself, once again, just a part of their shadows._

He'd learned from an early age that the best mask to hide behind was a smile. Maya had pretended that nothing could touch her, by hiding behind a façade of carelessness. But he'd managed with jokes and laughter. If people underestimated him, he always had the upper hand.

He's not sure when his jokes had all gone flat, but there's little that amuses him anymore.

He dresses mechanically, doing the buttons on the cuffs of his dress-shirt sleeves, with the confidence of someone who could do it blindfolded in the dark. He matches his pants to the corresponding suit jacket that hangs in his closet, before pausing as he surveyed the occupants of his closet.

It's all supposed to mean something.

 _Fatherhood isn't all he hoped it would be. It's two more mouths to feed, a new set of expectations, a new mold to fit into. He's not sure if he would have liked it better if it had been planned or if he's someone who just wasn't built to care for another human being._

 _His own father, certainly, hadn't set much of an example for him to follow. But, he hadn't been prepared to feel as out of his league as he does, now. He'd thought that some kind of primitive instinct would take over and all that would matter were his kids._

 _That, maybe, he'd love their mother, his wife, the way that he was supposed to love someone that had just given birth to his children. That those tiny humans would feel like they belonged to him and make all of the sacrifices he had been forced to make worth it._

 _"What's it like?" Lucas questioned, from where he was absently picking at the fries in his basket._

 _It's two in the morning and Lucas had been the one to suggest that they go out to eat, probably in celebration of Zay's new status, though it felt more like a much-needed break after sixteen hours of labor._

 _"It's like your drowning, barely able to keep yourself above the water, and then someone hands you twins and a wife," Zay explained, setting his hamburger back down on the plate._

 _"Riley wants a baby," Lucas revealed, not looking up from his food, "She's only mentioned it once, but she gets this look in her eyes whenever we see one on the street."_

 _"It would be different for you and Riley," Zay assured him, knowing that there was no need to elaborate._

 _"Would it, though? You and I, grew up the same, we had the same expectations, the same limitations. I don't know the first thing about being someone's father, except for that I would never want to put anyone through what I went through with my own," Lucas pointed out._

 _"You chose Riley; you love her and she loves you. You'll get your moment to ride off into the sunset together and it will be rainbows and bunnies," Zay offered, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone._

 _"I thought you said that things were getting better with Vanessa," Lucas changed the subject, looking up for the first time._

 _"They are better, they just aren't what they should be," Zay admitted, taking another bite of his burger._

 _"It would be worse doing this on your own. Maya," Lucas abruptly cut off, as he realized that he'd mentioned the name that he wasn't supposed to talk about._

 _"Maya's lucky that she doesn't have anyone to look at her with disappointment when she does something wrong. I'll have Vanessa to tell me every time I don't live up to her expectations," Zay pointed out, making it a point not to show any emotion when it came to Maya's name._

 _"Maya's mother is pretty judgmental about things," Lucas continued, wiping his mouth with a napkin, as he pushed his empty plate to the side._

 _He doesn't hear a lot about Maya, just bits and pieces that are accidentally let slip or mentioned in passing. Though, it doesn't surprise him that Katy is upset with the direction that her daughter's life has taken._

 _His own mother hadn't been thrilled when he'd had to inform her that he'd impregnated his childhood fling in a one-night stand, though she'd calmed down, somewhat, since he'd agreed to marry her. He tries not think about the significant amount of money his grandfather had given him in exchange for legitimizing the deal._

 _"Riley's one of the good ones, Luke. Don't mess it up," Zay advised, placing his tip on the table, as he stood up and brushed off his hands on his jeans._

 _"When you settle into things, it will get better," Lucas offered, his voice betraying his own doubts._

 _"You're probably right," Zay forced a smile, clapping Lucas on the back, as they headed out into the night._

Without really thinking about it, he's pulling the clothes off of hangers and letting them flutter to the ground around him. They're made of cotton, lined in silk, created to hide the failings of the person under them.

He'd never found the right designer, the right piece of jewelry, to make Vanessa happy. He'd never found the right suit to make himself feel like he deserved anything that he had.

He pauses as he finds himself face-to-face with a Navy uniform and he finds his hands running over the material, pausing at the buttons. It's the last item left in his closet and he leaves it hanging.

* * *

The television has been left on in the living room, turned to mute, and he can't help pausing to stare at the images across the screen. It's one of Maya's old DUI photos and it isn't flattering. Her mascara is smeared under her eyes and her hair looks greasy, though that could just be a trick of the lighting.

It's followed with a clip of Riley coming down the steps of a plane. She's moving mechanically, like it's all she can do to put one foot in front of the other and her face is towards the ground, leaving only her hair fluttering behind her in the wind.

Their friendship had baffled the media. Riley was the politically active, moral compass and Maya was the model living off of sex-appeal and bad behavior. There had never been an article that had gotten anywhere near the truth of their friendship and it was the one story that he had chosen not to tell.

Whether that was because people's imaginations could do the story better justice than reality could or because he had chosen to leave one thing sacred, was another thing better left untouched.

He finds himself sinking down in front of the television, hooked to the images flying across the screen. They're pictures of strangers, whose faces he knows by heart and he can't bring himself to look away, though he can't bring himself to turn on the volume and find out what they're saying, either.

 _"What does she have, that I don't?" Maya asked him, halfway through a bottle of wine that had a name he would slaughter trying to pronounce._

 _"Riley?" Zay clarified, looking at her in surprise, as he glanced up from the pile of papers that were fanned out in front of him._

 _He's not entirely sure why the blonde had chosen to show up at the office she had assured him would never receive the grace of her presence, again, in this lifetime. Or how she had known that he would still be there this late at night on a weekend, but she'd come in as though it was a natural occurrence and set herself up across from him._

 _"I mean, I get it," she slurred, setting her glass aside in a grand gesture that nearly had both the wine and the glass toppling to the floor, "She's smart, she's pretty, she had the perfect marriage. But, now, she doesn't. Now, she's a drunk, who dates princes and people still love her. How does she do it?"_

 _"People love you, Maya," Zay assured her, meeting her gaze, so that she would know that he was being sincere._

 _"They love to hate me, your articles made sure of that," she reminded him, leaning back and curling her bare feet under her in the seat._

 _"Riley is the girl next door. She's not a traditional beauty, which makes her less intimidating to other women. But, she's smart and educated, she gives a passionate speech, and she comes off as approachable. People believe that they actually know Riley. You're untouchable, no one would ever call you ugly, and if I saw you on the street, I would probably run in the opposite direction," Zay explained, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth._

 _"You know, Josh has never seen me drunk?" Maya leaned forward again, her arms pushing some of his papers onto the floor._

 _"The entire world has seen you drunk," Zay reminded her and she let out a harsh laugh that echoed through his office._

 _"But I mean, in-person," she corrected him, sobering mid-laugh, "He looks at me and I want to be the person that he's seeing."_

 _"Don't do that to him. You did that to me. All I wanted was you, but you thought that I had some kind of great expectations out of what you were. You're a good person, Maya, you're beautiful, anyone would be lucky to be with you, but you have to let them love you."_

 _"And what if I don't live up to their great expectations?" Maya questioned, her voice nonchalant, despite the insecurities lingering in her eyes._

 _"Then they're the person who's lacking," Zay returned, watching the emotions flickering through her eyes._

 _She leaned back again, finishing off the rest of her drink, before setting it aside. Zay returned to his paperwork, pausing as he came across a picture of Riley laughing, as she leaned into the side of her boyfriend at the opening of an exhibit at a museum._

 _"You know what I realized?" Maya asked, her voice dull, as she pulled him back to his office, "You build people up and tear them back down for a living, but your real success come from your insight into Riley and me. When you're gone, people are going to remember the pictures you published of us and the way your articles painted us. We're you're great legacy. And to hate me the way you did, you had to have loved me, once. So, to paint Riley the way you do…."_

 _Zay paused, his hands frozen on the picture, before he managed to recover from her hypothesis._

 _"I think you've had too much to drink," Zay suggested, grabbing the wine bottle and leaning back in his own seat._

 _"You ever wonder….?" Maya trailed off, again, her eyes distant, as she got lost in a memory that he couldn't see._

 _"We wouldn't have gotten our children," Zay reminded her, taking a drink from the bottle._

 _"Do we have them, now?" Maya pointed out, gesturing around the empty office._

 _"It's late," Zay pointed out, standing up from his chair and shrugging on his jacket. Maya watched him introspectively, as he grabbed what he needed from his desk and rounded it, holding out an arm to help her up._

 _"You're a true Southern Gentleman," Maya informed him, tucking her head into his side, as he leads her out the door, turning the lights off behind him._

 _They made it to the elevator and he hit the button, waiting patiently as the floor numbers changed directly above the bronze doors._

 _"I do wonder, sometimes," Zay admitted, keeping his voice low enough that he's not sure if she'll even hear._

 _"Me too."_

* * *

He expects a rush of memories to come back to him, as he steps into the lobby of the hotel, but all he really feels is sick. There's something morose in the atmosphere and the phone is ringing off the hook at the front desk as a frazzled woman, whose nerves look completely shot, attempts to keep up.

"We don't open until noon," a man cleaning glasses behind the counter informed him, as Zay stepped into the dimly lit bar.

"I'm not here for a drink. I received a call this morning that you had my wallet and phone," he explained, pausing as he reached the counter top.

"Isaiah Babineaux?" the man checked, setting aside the glass and turning to look at him.

"That's what it says on my driver's license," Zay agreed, watching as the man compared his face to the picture on his ID before handing over a black leather wallet and an IPhone that was missing Zay's usual blue case, "Just out of curiosity, how much did I have to drink last night?"

The man looked at him curiously, but kept his questions to himself, as he moved over to a computer and started typing.

"We don't have a record of you purchasing anything here, but it was kind of a crazy night. I'm sure that you heard that Maya Hart overdosed upstairs," he explained, turning back to look at Zay.

 _Golden hair fanned out across a pillow, brown eyes meeting his from the bottom of a back stairwell, the undeniable and uncontrollable feeling of panic; choking him and leaving him unable to breathe._

"Right," Zay agreed, the pieces coming together in his head. He kept his pace even, as he shoved his belongings into his pocket and forced himself to keep an even pace, as he moved in the direction of the front door.

He waited until he was in the car to open his wallet and flip through all of his credit cards, though he already knew that wasn't what he was really looking for. The room key was tucked behind his Black Centurion and he already knew what room it had to go to.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Zay leaned forward to speak to the driver, his heart beating loud enough that he could hear it echoing inside of his ears.

The driver glanced back at him, a look of uncertainty on his face and Zay closed his eyes as he struggled to compose himself.

"I have to make a phone call and it can't be traced back to my own phone," Zay explained, "I'm willing to pay you double what this trip would have cost me."

"I don't want any trouble, Mr. Babineaux," the driver informed him.

"I'm just going to call my girlfriend," Zay promised, unsure whether it was the sincerity in his voice of the desperation that led the man to handing over a nondescript phone.

The phone went straight to voicemail and he groaned, as he listened to her voice telling him to leave a message, "Ken, it's me. I'm guessing your plane hasn't landed, yet. You know that project that I've been working on, the one I couldn't tell you about. It turns out that I was actually onto something, so I need you to listen to me carefully. Don't come to my place, don't call my phone. There were two people, besides those that were responsible, who knew what happened in the accident, and, now, one of them is dead. So, you need to stop your interview and you need to get as far away from this situation as you possibly can."

He hung up the phone, handing it back to the driver, as he settled back into his seat with the weight of a condemned man. He'd made a deal with the devil, tried to play both sides, and now he was going to pay for it.

 _He's not sure that he entirely understood beauty until the day that he met Maya Hart. On the outside, she was stunning; with her delicate features, wild blonde hair, and the big blue eyes. However, his attraction to her was in the vulnerability that was always lurking in their deep, blue depths. It was a direct contrast to her entire demeanor, which was one big, "Do not disturb," sign._

 _She was untouchable and somewhere along the way she became immortal, which might be why he was so quick to jump on her fall from grace. Because the only thing people loved more than gazing up at an angel, was watching as they hit the pavement._

 _"That was cold, even for you," a dark-haired woman greeted him, setting the magazine that she had been carrying into his lap, as she slipped passed him and into the plane seat next to him._

 _"Shouldn't you be on Air Force One?" he returned, as she settled into her seat and shoved her Ralph Lauren, orange, tote under the seat in front of her._

 _"It is called Air Force Two, when the vice president is on it and, if you must know, this is a personal trip."_

 _"And I'm supposed to believe that it's a coincidence that you're sitting in the seat next to me?" he pressed, wishing, not for the first time, that this airline's first class for a national flight, didn't resemble business class for an international one._

 _"The flight was a coincidence, the seats were a bribe," she informed him, crossing her legs and smoothing her pencil-skirt across her knee._

 _"Why?"_

 _"Because I recognize that, while you might be a deplorable person, Isaiah Babineaux, you are, also, a very powerful one. And I just bought an hour and a half of your undivided attention."_

 _"And what could the Vice-President's Chief of Staff, possibly want with me?" he asked, wondering if her gaze had always been that cold and calculating, or if it had been something she'd picked up over the years._

 _"We have something in common. People like Riley, Lucas, Maya," she paused to gesture to the magazine that he was still holding in his lap, "Will have books written about them, documentaries made, and kids writing essays about their accomplishments. They are the people that the world is looking at. But, while, they might be remembered by history, we are the ones who will have written it."_

* * *

Charlie Gardner wasn't in the habit of bending protocol and it had been made very clear to him that it was in everyone's best interest if Maya Hart's case was all tied up with a pretty little bow and tucked away to the back of all of their minds.

The problem was, that the names were all familiar, and not just because they all seemed to be high profile. He'd followed Maya's exploits, the same as everyone else, bragging about how he'd known her in middle school, to his friends at parties and religiously following the drama that had surrounded Riley's divorce. There was something satisfying in knowing that Lucas hadn't lived up to all of the expectations that she'd had for him.

And, there was, also, the things that he felt had been overlooked. There really were quite a few questions that hadn't been answered entirely to his liking. Riley had just given him a decent excuse to cross his t's and dot his i's.

"Hey, Gardner," Bryant Jensen greeted him, sinking down on the edge of Charlie's desk, "I have something for you."

"Is it the lab results that I asked for?" Charlie questioned, trying not to show any eagerness towards the topic. It was better that no one think he had any vested interest.

"No, it's the phone records you requested. I figured out why it's been so difficult to get them," Jensen informed him, handing over a manila folder.

"Why is that?" Charlie questioned, refusing to look away from his computer, though he wasn't even seeing what was on the screen.

"Because Maya Hart's last call was made right before her overdose and it was to The White House."

* * *

 **Story Information:**

 **You know those crazy author's that tell you their characters talk to them and you're just like, "Right..." and back away slowly. I'm not having conversations with them, out loud...yet, but these characters are not sticking to the plotline that I have for them and they keep on surprising me, in the moment I'm writing.**

 **This chapter was written, at least, four times and it looks nothing like it's original. I had two different ideas for Zay's story and as I started writing, he, kind of, took on a mind of his own. I know he might seem the most OOC of anyone that I've written. Zay is one of my favorite characters from the show, but I had no idea how to fit him into a story that has this serious tone. In the end, I went with the idea that the people who seem the happiest and are cracking jokes on the outside, are the ones that have the darkest things going on inside. And, there's obviously a lot more that's happened to him, then what was shown in this chapter to make him the way he is.**

 **The other thing to know about this chapter is that, while I've tried to mark the flashbacks as clearly as I can, without removing some of the suspense, they are not all in chronological order. Zay's mind is all over the place and I tried to be as clear as possible, while being able to represent that. I have no idea if it worked.**

 **Someone asked me what kind of a role Savannah is going to play in this and because I'm behind on pretty much everything, I don't know if I got the chance to respond, so I'm going to answer here: I've gone back and forth on what I'm going to do with Savannah. Originally, she was a device I was going to use to tell all of my backstory, but, doing this story linearly wasn't working for me, so, then, I thought I would have her stick with Riley and be someone that could anchor Riley to her previous life. Then I found out who her father was (You read that right, the story told me, not the other way around) and it's not Zay, but there are suddenly a lot of ways that this could play out. Savannah's going to be a main character and Riley's her legal guardian (For the time being), so she's sticking around. I'm open to suggestions, here, on what people want to see with Savannah.**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you to everyone that is still here and for the support that you've given me throughout my writing. It's been hard to get back into the mindset of writing for these characters, so I don't know when to tell you updates for my other stories will be up, although I am working on them. It's been a lot of writing a paragraph, realizing that it doesn't fit, rewriting it, editing what I already have, and collapsing in exhaustion. So, it's going, albeit very, very slow.**

 **As for the news about the show: I'm still here, still writing, hoping people are still reading. Did anyone else expect the writers to give us some actual plots for what season four would have looked like? I feel like they're being just as vague, now that they're cancelled, as they would be if they were still going.**

 **Thanks again and please review! You really don't know how much your reviews motivate me to keep going!**


	6. Episode Five: White Knight, Dark Horse

_Dark Horse:_ _a little-known person or thing that emerges to prominence, especially in a competition of some sort, or a contestant that seems unlikely to succeed._

 _White Knight: Someone or something that rescues or saves another person or thing from a bad situation_

* * *

The tinting on the windows gives the illusion that the city is in black-and-white. Though, it all blurs together, as it passes outside the window. She can feel Tessa's disapproving stare that hasn't left her, since she'd slid into the vehicle.

There were four people on her security team, though only two of them had been there to pick her up. It seemed excessive for someone who hadn't even married into the family, yet, but James had insisted that it was protocol for foreign trips. It feels more like an attempt to keep an eye on her.

She doesn't blame him.

"James wants you to call him, as soon as you get a chance," Tessa spoke, though it only mounted the tension that was thick enough to almost be visible.

"You called him?" Riley questioned, crossing her legs at the ankle and straightening in her seat. The idea reminds her that she probably should have called him. Three days in and the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

"You were missing for almost four hours," Tessa reminded her and Riley closed her eyes, as she leaned back against the dark leather, struggling against the overwhelming feelings that swirled inside of her.

 _She'd hated jogging in her teenage years. Her limbs were too long for her body and they left her uncoordinated and clumsy. Now, it's the one time she actually feels like her body is working for her, instead of against her._

 _She knows to brace herself for a fight, as soon as she sees the car in the driveway and the light glowing through the curtains. Rarely, does he beat her home and, if he does, it means he's actually trying and it makes the guilt that much worse._

 _"Where were you?" he's sitting at the kitchen table, a mountain of files piled around him, and the same look on his face, her father got whenever she came home after curfew._

 _"I went for a run," she replied, heading straight for the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water._

 _"For four hours?"_

 _"What do you want from me, Lucas?" she slammed the door closed, throwing her hands up in exasperation, "You want dinner at the table? A pat on the back? Someone to commiserate about how hard your day was?"_

 _"You know me better than that," he reminded her, keeping his tone flat._

 _"I thought I did," she returned, taking the water bottle with her, as she left the kitchen._

She forces her eyes open, surprised by the vividness of a memory that she'd tried so hard to bury. She was a horrible fiancée, but she'd been a worse wife.

Love was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be what motivated her, what drove her. Though, as a child of Cory and Topanga, she probably should have expected that she'd love too much, too hard, for too long.

And, in the end, she'd simply run out.

"You okay?" Josh looked away from the window and Riley's smile was both mechanical and automatic. She held it for half a second before remembering who she was with and letting her head droop onto his shoulder.

"You think it ever gets easier?" she whispered, well aware that the sound would carry through the close quarters of the car.

"No, not really."

 _It's a hot summer night and her body is already sticky with sweat, when she climbs into bed and pulls the single, white sheet up to her neck. She feels too exposed to sleep without something covering her, but everything feels like an irritant._

 _She hears the sounds of Lucas moving around the kitchen; cupboards opening, the ice maker on the fridge. She's not sure how much later it is, when she can pick out his footsteps on the stairs._

 _She closes her eyes and waits, as he changes his clothes in the dark. She expects him to get into bed next to her, leaving The Grand Canyon of space between the two of them. However, instead, he makes his way around her side of the bed and kneels down next to her._

 _His thumb makes his way to her cheek and she feels him tracing the side of her face and leaving her with no choice, but to open her eyes, or look childish for trying to avoid him._

 _"Riley," he sighs; her name a caress in his mouth._

 _She lets her eyes flutter open and is surprised by how close he is and how gentle his eyes are. Hadn't they just been arguing in the kitchen a few hours ago?_

 _"I don't like it when we fight," he waves the white flag; his hand going from her face, down her arm and taking her hand in his, "I hate it."_

 _"I hate it, too," she admits, surprised by the raw emotion that fills her throat. She's spent so long holding all of it back, shoving it down and only letting anger through, that the sadness and defeat are overwhelming._

 _"Then, why are we doing this?" he questions, his voice a desperate plea._

 _"You know why," she reminds him, wondering if there's anything other than an inevitable conclusion._

 _"I want to give you what you want," he whispered, leaning towards her, "I would give up everything, if I thought that it would make you happy. But, we can't keep doing this, Baby. I can't keep watching you get your hopes up and end up devastated. It's time to stop. It's all just too much."_

 _"I'm not ready to give up; I can't give up. This can't just be it," Riley argued, her voice rising, as she pleaded with him to understand._

 _"When it comes down to it, I'll always pick you first, always put you first. I'm not going to risk losing you, not even for this."_

 _"Then, I guess, there's nothing left to say," Riley rolled over, leaving her back to him._

 _"I'm sorry," his voice carries brokenly through the room._

 _She's already turned onto her back, by the time he rounds the bed and slides into his designated spot. She can make out a shape that looks like a pawprint in the textured ceiling and she can hear his steady breathing._

 _"I love you; even when you're mad at me, I love you," he informs her and she can feel his eyes on the side of her face._

 _"I love you, too," she sighs._

 _And, then, she's crying; great heaving sobs rocking her entire body and his arms are the only thing keeping her from shattering into a million pieces._

* * *

Josh is the first one out of the car, holding the door open, so that Riley can slide out after him. Tessa lets herself out of the front seat, informing the driver that he was free to get something to eat, before she met him back at the hotel.

She's using the tone of the voice that Riley associates with defeat and she knows that whatever line she's crossed this time is going to have consequences.

"I'll go get the elevator," Josh suggested, seeming to sense the need for privacy, and leaving the two women alone.

"Does it help if I apologize?" Riley questioned, folding her arms across her chest, as the car pulled away from the curb.

"Look, you know if it was just me, I'm willing to give you some leeway. But we're not on our own turf. If your ex-husband decided that he wanted retaliation, if someone wanted to make a political statement, things could go very bad, very fast," Tessa reminded her, ushering her through the front door and into the lobby, "You don't get to be normal, anymore."

"I don't think I was ever normal," Riley sighed, pausing as they reached the elevator that Josh was holding open.

 _The sunglasses cover her eyes, though it doesn't help much with the pounding in her head. She's tired and she'd rather be curled up in bed, then where she is, but she hopes the emotions aren't translating across her face._

 _"I'm thrilled that you could come," Alexis offers, in a voice filled with fake enthusiasm._

 _Maya would say something snappy and clever, but she's not Maya, so she smiles politely, "It was so nice of you to invite us."_

 _There are children playing on a playground across the grass and Riley has to force herself to keep her attention focused on the patterned tablecloth that Alexis had already laid over the wood._

 _Riley thought that she was an overachiever, but she can't help finding the imperfections in the brownies that she sets beside sugar cookies that are decorated like tiny, perfect American flags. The detail work in the stars doesn't look human and, somehow, none of the colors have run together._

 _"Did you get a chance to glance over the changes in that legislation?" Lucas questions, speaking up from where he'd seated himself at the end of the table. He hasn't looked up from his phone since he left the house, but it's tucked away, now._

 _"I read through it last night, but there's something off about the wording," she admitted, glancing over her shoulder at the playground, "Nielson, stop throwing sand at your sister!"_

 _"Is he yours?" Riley asks politely; taking in the child that looks about five. His hair is dark and his face round, but he moves with a natural grace, that she guesses he must have inherited from his mother._

 _"Yes, and the blonde going down the slide," she points to a little girl with curled, blonde, pigtails and a dress that looks too frilly for playing at the park, "I only wanted one, but my ex-husband talked me into another one. It might have been the best thing that he ever did."_

 _The divorce had been high profile. Riley can remember seeing it on the news, though she can't remember all of the details. She thinks there had been something about abuse allegations or arguments over alimony. They were one of those couples that had both come from powerful families and money._

 _She's not sure how Alexis had kept the divorce out of her campaign for senator, but she'd won by a landslide._

 _She'd met Alexis on occasion, but mostly at events and the idea of spending any time with her personally has never been appealing, but Lucas had insisted that they go and she hadn't had the energy to argue with him._

 _"Luke, will you push me on the swing?" the little boy questioned, as he ran towards them at full speed._

 _"Sure, buddy," Lucas agreed, getting up to walk towards the playground._

 _"He's so good with kids," Alexis mused, watching both of them go for a second, before she turned her attention back to organizing the food on the table, "I, sometimes, have to bring them into the office with me and Lucas has always been nothing, but nice to them. It's more than I can say for some of the others that I work with."_

 _Riley's not sure what to say to that, so she busies herself with pealing the lid off of the box containing the brownies and tries to relax the muscles in her face._

 _"I saw the speech that you gave at that home for battered women," Alexis changed the subject, "It was beautifully presented."_

 _"Thank you."_

 _"Lucas says that you were the one that got him into politics?" Alexis pressed, apparently looking for safe ground._

 _"I worked on some campaigns in college, but Lucas has always done well in leadership roles. He sees a problem and he has to fix it," Riley replied, her eyes straying to where he was laughing, as he pushed Nielson on the swing._

 _"He has a voice that people listen to," Alexis offered, "Do you think he'll run again?"_

 _It's at that point that it dawns on Riley exactly what's happening. She's been manipulated into a situation that there's no way to get out of._

 _"It would be nice to go home, to have normal, again," Riley replied, feeling the strain that was entering her voice._

 _"Normal's overrated," Alexis offered, "I've been asked to run for president in the next election cycle. My ratings are up and I've found someone willing to back me. I'd like Lucas to run as my vice-president."_

 _The churning in Riley's stomach is instant and she's already in the bathroom, locking the stall, before she can realize that she's even moved. She presses her hand to her mouth, trying to settle the nausea._

 _He'd promised her they could go home._

 _She sees Lucas's smile as he's pushing Nielson on the swing; hears the sound of children's laughter._

 _She leans over the toilet as the contents of her stomach, come spilling out._

"Someone will be outside the building all night. But, if you decide to make a run for it, it would be nice if you could give me a call," Tessa's words register, as Riley finds herself back in the lobby. Her breathing is uneven and she can feel the sweat that's collecting on her neck.

"I'll be better," Riley agrees, stepping inside and watching as Tessa disappears with the closing of the doors.

"She's intense," Josh offered, as they watched the floors change above the doors.

She is intense. She's the only person that Riley had gotten to pick out of her security team and she'd known that she wanted Tessa immediately. She had a military background and Riley didn't doubt that she loved her country, but her loyalty had always been to Riley.

"She's, just, doing her job. When people found out about my relationship with James there were a lot of death threats, some protestations that turned violent," Riley explained, balancing herself on golden rail that lined the edge of the elevator.

She could make out their outlines among the gold plating, enough that she could see Josh's shoulders tense.

"You never mentioned that things had gotten that bad."

"It wasn't any worse then what I was dealing with in Washington," Riley pointed out, one hand automatically going to trace the scar on the opposite wrist.

"You got out of Washington," he reminded her, not bothering to try and hide his insinuation.

Before she could come up with a reply, the doors were sliding open and they were greeted with the larger than life face of Maya Hart. Josh's gaze is immediately focused on the picture and she knows exactly what he's thinking, what he's feeling.

He won't care about a thing she says, now, but she can't stop herself, anyway.

"I'm not sure that you ever really get out," Riley offered, forcing herself to avert her gaze, as she made her way inside.

 _There's a night before the accident that stands out vividly against the fog. It's her first clear night in a long while and she's, somehow, managed to avoid the alcohol that's abundantly present at the current gathering._

 _She's made her obligatory lap around the party of ambassadors and state officials, trading back-handed compliments with the other senator's wives and avoiding subtle and not-so-subtle flirting from their husbands. Lucas is running late and she's already gearing up for the inevitable fight about how much she hates it when he leaves her at these things alone, when she finds her way to the back patio and slowly slips outside._

 _She's settled into a seat that gives her a clear view of the garden and is enjoying the quiet and the smell of the flowers in full bloom, when the back door opens and she spins around._

 _He notices her instantly, his face unreadable in the dimmed light. She can make out the sturdy shoulders and the confidence that he holds himself with. He reminds her of Lucas, in a way, but carrying less of the world's burdens on his back._

 _"Riley Friar?" he questions, his voice carrying a comfortable familiarity that she can't quite place._

 _"Sometimes," she returned, straightening her posture and smoothing her skirt._

 _"I'm looking for your husband," he admitted, deliberately leaving the door open, as he crossed the patio and sunk into the chair across from her._

 _"That makes two of us," she smiled, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, "He's running late."_

 _"He seems to do that a lot," he offered, "I keep getting the runaround at his office."_

 _"I don't have anything to do with his scheduling," Riley informed him, already trying to plot her escape before he could get her to agree to something that would only put further strain on her marriage._

 _"I wouldn't dare insinuate that you do. I'm just desperate at this point," he admitted, leaning forward, "I'm here in a diplomatic capacity, specifically to help negotiate the stationing of a U.S. Naval base, but I'm concerned about the environmental impact report that they've given me. Something about it doesn't seem right."_

 _"I don't like to get involved in politics," Riley stood up, hoping that he would get the hint and she could slip away quietly._

 _"That's not true," his voice stopped her, "You worked on political campaigns all through college, you've championed bills to increase minimum wage and lessen the gender gap, you gave a speech last year at an all girl's school about women in science."_

 _"You know an awful lot about me, for someone who was here to see my husband," she pointed out, frozen in her spot._

 _"I may have looked you up," he confessed, "But I knew that if anyone would be willing to look at the situation objectively, instead of what would be best for the United States, it would be you. I've spent my entire life surrounded by politics, but I've never met anyone as idealistic as you."_

 _"You just met me," she reminded him, though she knew that he had already won the battle. She had a soft spot for doing the right thing and an instinct for knowing what that was. Even if she, occasionally, chose to ignore it._

 _"All I'm asking, is that you take this folder to your husband and have him really go over it. If there's something wrong with our current plans, we can return to the negotiation table," he offered, holding a manila folder out to her._

 _"And for all you've talked me up, it's Lucas who you trust will do the right thing?"_

 _"He's one of the few men I've met here, who still clearly loves his wife. I've heard people calling you his compass and I have a feeling that it's a title bestowed for more than your ability to tell north from south," he smiled and there was something refreshing in the way that it went all the way to his eyes._

 _"I'll ask him to look at it," Riley sighed, tucking the folder under her arm._

 _"I appreciate it. If there's anything that I can ever do for you," he let the suggestion hang._

 _"I have no idea who you even are," she reminded him._

 _"I'm sorry. My name's James, James Crista," he introduced himself, and she was once again struck with how familiar something about it was._

 _"It was nice to meet you," she offered, making her way back into the house and trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her back._

The apartment is an open floorplan with the kitchen tile leading directly into the dark hardwood of the living room. Two, black-leather couches surround a fireplace and a glass coffee table that looks like it's been shattered and glued back together sits on a white, fluffy carpet.

Savannah is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, slowly tracing the cracked glass with one finger. She glances up when they come through the front door and Riley can't help thinking that it was a mistake to leave the teenager home alone, while they dealt with funeral plans.

"Hey, Savvy," Josh greeted her, his voice hesitant, as he slipped passed Riley.

"Josh," she returned, before turning her attention to Riley, "You were later then I thought you would be. You had The Suits panicking about where you were."

"I'm sorry. Things with the funeral didn't go well and I needed some time to compose myself," Riley explained, feeling the guilt settling over her lungs.

"There's pizza in the kitchen," Savannah offered, before her gaze returned to the table.

Riley exchanged a glance with Josh and taking the hint, he started in the direction of the counter where a closed box of pizza was, indeed, waiting. Riley sunk down on the floor next to the teenager and struggled to come up with the right thing to say.

"I should have taken you with me or come home sooner. I wish I were better at this," Riley admitted, resting her forearms on the table and twining her hands together.

She'd been there when Savannah was born; she'd witnessed the first time she'd rolled over, the first solid food she'd eaten, the first time she'd laughed. But, Savannah's a teenager, now, and Riley's not entirely sure how to handle her.

She can't help wishing that Maya were here.

"I asked you to leave me," Savannah reminded her, "I just didn't realize how hard it would be to be stuck by myself with the memories. I forgot how much I hated this place."

"It's kind of sterile, isn't it?" Riley agreed, leaning her head back against the couch.

"It's not home," Savannah returned, letting her hands drop back into her lap, "So, have you figured out what happens to all of this? Who's the lucky person that gets my mother's empire?"

"Ava wants to wait until after the funeral to go over your mother's will," Riley explained, "But I'm sure that most of it will go to you."

"Lucky me," Savannah snorted, glancing over as Josh took a seat above them, a plate of pizza in his hand.

"It's enough to give you whatever kind of future you want," Josh offered, "You could travel, go to school, put that brilliant mind of yours to good use."

"But not at fourteen," Riley corrected, her eyes narrowing.

"Then, what happens to me?" Savannah questioned, biting her lip in a way that suggested she'd been stewing over the possibilities all day, "The girl with a dead mother and no father to step up and take care of her. Do I go to one of my mother's excellent choices in husbands? Maybe, the one that tracked her cell phone and shattered this table with her head."

Riley felt her breath catch in her throat at the casual way that Savannah could talk about it and she could see Josh tense out of the corner of her eye.

"No, Maya and I agreed that if anything ever happened to her, I'd take care of you," Riley explained, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Not my real father?" Savannah's gaze didn't leave Josh and Riley felt her heart ache within her chest.

She thought back to what Farkle had said about pretty lies, but she's not sure that she agrees with his reasoning when it comes to this. Josh wasn't Maya's father and it wouldn't take much to punch straight through the lies to the truth. You could only live in denial for so long.

"You really want to know?" Riley asked, waiting as the silence stretched heavy and tense between the three of them.

"Yes," Savannah agreed.

"The summer after our freshman year of college, your mother went with the art club to Rome. When she came back, she realized that she was pregnant with you," Riley explained, trying to keep her explanation as simple as possible.

"I spent that summer helping my father out, his health was in a decline and someone needed to be there to take care of him," Josh offered, picking up on what wasn't being said.

"So, my father was someone that went on the trip with them?" Savannah glanced between them, a dozen emotions racing across her face.

Riley bit her lip, as she thought through her next words, wishing that Maya had chosen to handle this conversation a long time ago.

"No, he wasn't a student at NYU," Riley offered, staring intently at the knees of her pants.

"So, she didn't love him? He was just a stranger that she picked up off the street?" Savannah pressed, rubbing furiously at the tears that were leaking out of her eyes and down her face, "I was the product of some random hookup? Does he even know that I exist?"

"Does it matter? Your mother loved you, Riley loves you, _I_ love you. We're your family and we always have been," Josh reminded her, letting Riley off the hook.

"My mother killed herself, she literally drank herself to death. If you're my family, then where were you? You can pretend that we're all in this together for as long as you want, but at the end of the day, you fell off the face of the earth when she died," Savannah pointed an accusing finger at Josh, before turning her attention to Riley, "And you only bothered to show your face after she was gone."

Savannah waits a second, her eyes snapping between both of their faces, as she searches for a reaction. Then, she's standing up and disappearing down the hallway, a door slamming in the distance.

"She's not wrong," Josh offers, setting his food aside.

 _The apartment isn't home and they've called it a number of derogatory names; from, "The Hovel," to the, "Murder Scene." Nicknamed, for the lights in the hall that constantly flicker, the one bedroom, and the screaming that can be heard through the walls at night._

 _They'd been desperately looking for a place when they'd moved in and the rent was just enough that they could afford it between Maya's job and the housing allowance in Riley's scholarship. If they were living off of canned food and whatever Riley could steal from_ Topanga's, _at least there was food to eat._

 _Despite their living situation, it's still one of Riley's favorite places. It's filled with memories from the early morning feedings of Savannah, to the late-night laughter over something that they heard through the walls. They've shared stories of bad days on the couch that they found at a second-hand store and spilled nail polish all over the bedspread that Riley had brought from home, but it's the place where they really grew up._

 _Riley had never thought that she would be hesitant to leave._

 _Maya is seated on the opposite end of the couch; Savannah's sleeping in a bassinet beside them, though the only thing holding their attention is the little, velvet box that's sitting in the middle of the coffee table._

 _She's not sure how long they've been sitting in silence, but the nervous energy is enough to make her burst._

 _"You have to tell him yes," Maya, finally, speaks._

 _"But the timing is all wrong, Maya. We agreed we'd wait, until we finished up school and I'm nowhere near done. And what about Savvy and you, I can't just abandon the both of you," Riley pointed out._

 _"Riley, this is Lucas. This is the love of your life and you can't just let him move across the country without you," Maya pointed out, her eyes dark in the lighting of the room._

 _"We could do things long distance," Riley argued, pulling her knees up to her chest, "I could finish out school here and he could do what he needed to do there, this is a huge decision."_

 _"I'm not saying that it isn't. But, why would you put your relationship through that if you didn't have to?"_

 _"How will you make rent?" Riley returned, "And who will go walking with you in the middle of the night when Savvy won't stop crying? Who will trade off feeding her with you? Who will help you take care of her?"_

 _"You can't put your life on hold for me, Riles. I appreciate everything that you've done, but I won't be the thing that holds you back in life. I'm the one who got pregnant, Savannah is my daughter, and I'm the one who has to figure out how I'm going to take care of her. I refuse to be the thing that holds you back," Maya insisted, reaching out to take Riley's hand in her own._

 _"It's not holding me back. I agreed that we would be in all of this together," Riley reminded her, feeling the tears building up in her eyes._

 _"Can you honestly tell me that you don't want to marry him? That you could ever spend your life with anyone else?"_

 _"Maya," Riley protested, not bothering to wipe away the tears that had escaped down her face._

 _"Marry him, Riles. Don't live your life with any regrets."_

"No, she's not," Riley agreed, letting her head fall into her hands.

"You know she didn't ever resent you for leaving. At least, not when you were leaving with Lucas," Josh comforted her, sinking from the couch onto the floor next to her, "He was the only person that she was ever willing to share you with."

"I should have come back here when I left him. I should have been here, for both of them," Riley sighed, getting choked with the regret.

"You've never told me where you went."

 _She's waiting at the curtains when his car pulls into the driveway. She's been waiting all morning, but a glance at the clock on the wall, shows that he's early for what they agreed on. Another testament to the manners that his mother had instilled in him from birth._

 _She can see his profile, as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel and talks to himself, though she can't see enough of his lips to guess at what he's saying. He's all nervous energy and she can't remember the last time that she saw him this worked up._

 _She can't help wondering what he's already guessed._

 _Without warning, he jerks his car door open in a single motion and glances behind himself, as he heads for her front door. She's not sure what he's looking for, but she highly doubts that he's going to attract any stares in this neighborhood. His Armani suit is practically dress code for their zip code, though she's never, actually, seen him look comfortable in anything that costs more than two digits._

 _He makes his way up the front walk, with the ease of someone who's made that same journey a million times, before disappearing out of her range of view. Though, she can imagine, as he takes the two steps onto the porch and the five steps to the front door._

 _There are three, quick knocks and she sighs, as she mentally prepares herself for the conversation ahead. She's half convinced that she's going to back out, but there's another part of her that knows it's her only option._

 _"Come in," she calls, knowing that it would be faster for him to let himself in, then for her to try and make it to the front door. She's pretty much confined to the chair that she'd always thought of as Lucas's, though she can see little signs of improvement in her mobility every day._

 _"Is it really such a smart idea to be keeping your door open?" Zay questioned, his eyes lingering on her for a half-a-second too long, before he shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it on the doorknob of the coat closet._

 _"Because we're in such a dangerous neighborhood?" she pointed out, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth._

 _"You're surrounded by politicians, Riles. You should have two deadbolts and a gun stationed by your door," he joked, slipping out of his shoes, as he hesitated on the edge of the room, "You look pretty messed up."_

 _"I know," she agreed, thinking of the first time that she'd seen her face in a mirror. The bruising was in multiple shades and colors and the swelling was taking a long time to go down. She'd never considered herself vain, but that hadn't stopped her from insisting that no one see her._

 _"But, I heard you're going to make a full recovery; no permanent damage," Zay pivoted, "I'm sure there's a million Botox-ed wives out there crying themselves to sleep at night over the news that you'll be reclaiming your position as the most beautiful woman in any room. Not that you aren't, now."_

 _"Nice save," Riley offered, sighing as stared at the cast on her arm._

 _"What do you need?" he questioned, his voice going serious._

 _"I need a favor and what I'm asking isn't fair, it probably isn't even right," Riley admitted, unable to meet his gaze._

 _"You know that I would do anything for you," Zay reminded her, no hint of hesitation in his voice, "I owe you, Riley, more than I could every pay back."_

 _"I don't want you to feel obligated to do this. I want you to feel like you have a choice," Riley looked up, blinking away the tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes._

 _"What do you need?"_

 _"I want to sell you my story," Riley admitted, "I got my file from the hospital and there are pictures."_

 _"The public would eat you alive. If you need money, I'll give you a loan, you don't have to do this," he insisted, his words coming out choppy as he struggled to catch up with the conversation._

 _"I don't need a loan, Zay. I need money wired to an off-shore bank account and a ticket to Johannesburg."_

 _"South Africa?" he clarified, looking at her in shock._

 _"I have to get out of here, you've seen what this place has done to me. And, if I stay, sooner or later the story is going to come out and it will ruin Lucas's career. At least this way, he's not hiding anything and I'm not holding him back," Riley kept her tone even._

 _"He'll never forgive me. If I do this none of our friends will ever forgive me," Zay pointed out, rubbing the skin between his eyes._

 _"I told you that it wasn't fair. But, I don't trust anyone else to do this," Riley admitted._

 _"You don't trust anyone else to ruin your reputation? I'm sure there's a compliment in there, somewhere," he laughed, humorlessly._

 _"I almost died. I should have died. And, I don't remember anything. I don't know when the drinking got out of hand, I don't remember anything that happened that day, I don't remember the accident. I'm losing my mind and we both know that it would destroy Lucas if he had to walk away from everything that he's worked for."_

 _"You don't think that it will destroy him if you do?" Zay argued._

 _"Zay," she breathed his name, closing her eyes._

 _His hand reached out and closed around hers and her eyes snapped open, "I'll do it. You wouldn't have called me here if you didn't know that I would."_

 _"Thank you."_

"South Africa," she answered Josh's question, shaking off the memory, "I went to South Africa."

"That's definitely not the first place that I would have looked for you," Josh agreed.

They lapsed into another silence and Riley found her index finger, slowly, tracing the glue across the table in the same patterns that Savannah had traced, "Her husband throws her through a glass table and she glues it back together again."

The image is too clear in her mind of Maya on her hands and knees, trying to repair the remains of her life that lies shattered on the ground. She would have kept the table as a reminder; one more reason not to trust, not to hope, not to believe.

"There was only bruising when she came to me, if she'd shattered this table, there would have been cuts," Josh offered, keeping his voice matter-of-fact.

"The police think she was meeting someone at the hotel," Riley offered, pulling her knees up to her chest, as she tried to hold herself together.

"They have any idea who it was?" Josh questioned, his voice taken on a strained note.

"Not that they shared with me."

"Well, maybe, we should figure it out."

* * *

She sits on the edge of the bathtub, relieved to be tucked away where no one can see her.

The phone feels heavy in her hands, almost as if it's gained weight, since she last picked it up. The screen glows blue, in a generic screensaver that says nothing about the owner. It's better that way, less of a chance for someone to think that there's anything remarkable about it, but she's always been the kind of girl to use pictures.

Growing up it had always been something of her and Maya that would greet her whenever she needed to use it, later it was a picture of Zay and Farkle that they'd changed it too, while holding it for her. Then, Lucas had made a comment about never getting any screen space and he'd become her permanent picture, shifting with their memories over the years, but always of him.

Now, it's blue. It's not even her favorite color.

She lets her fingerprint unlock the screen and pulls up her contacts, ignoring the twinge in her heart when she sees Maya's number in the first favorite slot, followed by James, and, then, Tessa.

She should just rip the band aid off and call him, but she's scared of what he's going to say. She doesn't want a lecture on security, or concern about how she's doing. She doesn't want to talk to someone who didn't know Maya intimately, who never understood the complexities and history of the relationship.

She doesn't want the inevitable question of when she's coming home.

She pushes the button and holds the phone up to her ear, waiting as it rings.

"Riley," his voice is filled with relief and traces of sleep and it takes her a minute to calculate how early it must be for him.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to call," she offers, her voice sounding mechanical, even to her own ears.

"I get it, of course I get it. How are you?" he presses and she can see him in her mind, all nervous energy as he tries to establish a connection with her across all of those empty miles.

"We're finalizing the funeral plans," she evades the question, not sure what the right answer is.

"Right, of course," he repeats and her hair falls into her face, as she hunches over, "I miss you. Nothing smells like you, anymore, and it's strange to have spent so much time without hearing your voice. I wish I was there with you."

"It's already a media nightmare and that's without adding royalty to the mix," she pointed out, "They're bringing in Secret Service for the funeral and all that security would just turn into a turf war."

He lets a second of silence go by and she wonders what he's doing, "You're not tempted to drink?"

"I haven't relapsed," she assures him, though it sounds like another evasion.

"If you need me, if you're tempted, if you fall; you'll call me, won't you?" he presses, his voice filled with a vulnerability that's a privilege given to just her. It's the promise that he'd move mountains, hide bodies, and forgive her every mistake, if she'd only ask.

"I'll call," she assures him.

"Promise?"

 _Leaving Lucas is a premeditated decision. She knows the day, the time, exactly how she's going to do it. She goes over it in her head so many times that she thinks that she can disconnect herself from the situation enough to go through with it._

 _Because it might be the bravest thing she's ever had to do, it's definitely the hardest._

 _The week before she's already weaning herself off of pain killers, forcing herself to learn to bear it, although there's an ache in her arm that leaves her gasping for air any chance she stops to dwell on it. Her face looks like a shredded piece of hamburger and she knows that it's going to take her several weeks to recover enough that she can blend in without drawing attention to herself._

 _She lays motionless in the bed they've shared through three states and more years than can be counted on one hand, as he pulls his suit jacket on over his dress shirt and toes his shoes on in the dark. She'd normally be in the kitchen blending a protein shake for him to take with him on the road, while scrolling through news articles on her phone, but she hasn't been much of an early riser, lately._

 _"Hey," his voice is a whisper, despite there not being anyone else in the house to wake._

 _She bites her swollen lip, rather than risking her voice, as he sits down on the edge of the bed and brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear._

 _"You sure you're okay with me going back?" Lucas questioned, his eyes searching hers, desperately looking for answers that she can't give him._

 _She nods once, taking a measured breath as it pulls at the bruises that line her entire shoulder._

 _"Smackle's going to stop by to check on you and I'll call at lunch," Lucas assured her, "And if you need anything, I want you to call me."_

 _She nods again, her eyes drifting back down to the striped sheets that are pulled tightly around her. They're smooth against her skin and her eyes drift back to the ceiling, when the angle proves too difficult to hold._

 _She briefly wonders what happened to the white ones that they'd always used._

 _"I need you to take these before I go," Lucas insisted, jiggling a pill box that had sorted her medication through days of the week._

 _"Later, I just want to sleep," she lied, her voice coming out rough from disuse._

 _"Riles, I couldn't take it," he paused, choked with emotion, "If anything else happened to you. Promise me that you're going to take care of yourself."_

 _"Promise," Riley squeezed his hand, before dropping it and turning onto her side._

 _"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair, before he headed towards the door._

 _She doesn't say it back._

"I promise," she agrees, rushing through the words, "Listen, I need to go."

"Okay," he sounds taken off guard, "I love you."

They're just words; words she'd spent her entire life throwing around without any knowledge of the gravity that they held. She'd loved easily and without limitations, but that isn't who she is, anymore.

"James, I-," she starts.

"You don't have to say it, I know," he cuts her off.

"I'll talk to you soon," those words are meaningless and she can barely look at herself in the bathroom mirror, as she shoves the phone back into her pocket and heads for the bedroom.

* * *

 _The French doors leading out to the balcony are open and Riley can feel the wind making its way through the curtains and across the room. She has the white comforter pulled up to her neck, but the sting of the air still hits her face and she turns into her pillow in an attempt to avoid it._

 _"You want me to close them," a voice whispers into her ear, close enough that she can feel his breath ruffling her hair and tickling her ear._

 _"I think it's my turn," Riley replied, slipping out of the bed and grabbing her robe from where she'd discarded it at the side of the bed. She pauses at the French doors as she takes in the view of the mountainside stretching out in front of her. They're snowcapped and the sight is enough to leave her awestruck._

 _It's one of those rare, perfect moments where she finds herself completely content, completely happy…._

 _She knows what her next line is. She's supposed to turn around to find her husband watching her intently from the bed that they had both been sleeping in and she'll ask him whether they can just stay here forever._

 _But, they never do._

 _And the moment after she'll find herself waking up with tears running down her face and a hand clutched to her chest, as she tries to stop the internal hemorrhaging of her heart._

 _She's relived this moment enough times to know what it means._

 _"You're in the city, aren't you?" Riley questioned, wrapping her arms around herself as her eyes traced the ridges and curves of the mountains. She can't bring herself to turn around and look at him, but his gaze has a physical weight on her back._

 _"I'm close," he replied, the sleepiness in his voice gone._

 _"Did you bring_ her _with you?" Riley asked, closing her eyes as she leaned against the glass door._

 _"That's not what you're supposed to ask me," he reminded her, something melancholy in his tone._

 _"We can't go back to what we had, Lucas. The moment is gone and reliving it, isn't going to change anything," she sighed._

 _"Then why do you keep coming here?"_

Her eyes snap open and her fingertips immediately find their way to her chest, as she feels the steady heartbeat and the expansion and contraction of her lungs. Her body seems to be unaware of the significance of the dream and her eyes remain dry, as she stares up at the ridges of the ceiling.

It should probably feel like progress.

It mostly just feels empty.

* * *

The cedar chest had originally been Riley's idea; a going away present when she'd moved to Texas with Lucas. Maya had been in the beginning phases of her modeling career and talking about California and Riley had realized that a separation was inevitable.

She'd chosen the Eleanor Roosevelt quote as a joke, thinking of the scandal that Maya's career was starting out with. She'd done a Post-Partum photo spread that had stirred up plenty of controversy and her pictures had only gotten bolder from there. Maya never was one to do things halfway.

She'd had the chest made special and presented it to Maya the night before she was set to fly out and meet Lucas for their newest adventure. She hadn't been entirely surprised when a box had arrived in the mail almost a month later inscribed with, "Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go Everywhere." The fact that it was such a Maya thing to say, had kept the chest in a center spot on her vanity for most of her adult life.

It was currently sitting on a bedside table an entire ocean away, waiting for when she would bring its sister home.

Maya's box should have been titled Pandora.

It sits in front of her on the bathroom floor, a striking contrast of dark wood against the cold, white tile.

She'd seen the wedding pictures, when she'd opened the box with Savannah, but been unable to bring herself to look at them. She'd wanted to cleanse her life from all of the memories, but, now, there's just a half-inch of wood between her and them and she's not sure that she's strong enough to turn away.

She peels back the lid and pulls out the picture of their core group of friends, setting it aside, along with the photos of Savannah's childhood. The postcards that had once had a designated spot on their apartment wall, showcasing how far from home Farkle had traveled, were all stacked neatly and just as easily discarded with the rest of the pile.

There's a yellowing envelope with Maya's name on the front that is still sealed, though it's crinkled, as if Maya had spent a lot of time holding it. Next, is a piece of hotel stationary in Josh's messy scrawl informing her that he'd gone out in search of sustenance and would be back soon.

Maya's never been the sentimental one, but each scrap of paper feels like another intimate thing that Maya probably wanted taken to her grave. There's a part of her that wants to analyze every secret that Maya had shoved into the box and another part that wants to give Maya the privacy that she never got in life.

Before she can decide, she's already happened upon the wedding photos. She spent a second on the photo of herself getting ready, before flipping to photo of herself and Lucas standing on the church steps.

He's looking at her with the adoration that had promised a lifetime of commitment and she can almost feel his arm wrapped around her waist, as he pulls her in closer to his side.

The next photo is of him kissing her a second later and she can't stop the tears that instantly fill her eyes and run down her cheeks. They had started out their life together with plenty of promise and, somehow, it had all gotten messed up along the way.

She slowly shifts back, letting her back lean against the edge of the tub and her head rest along the lip. She'd thought she was doing a good job of keeping the memories at bay, but Maya's death had seemed to bring every unresolved feeling back to the front of her mind.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of the cold porcelain that was pressed against the bare skin of her neck and not the pictures and scraps of paper that fan out around her in a graveyard of lost hopes and dreams.

It almost works.

 _"It figures that we would be days away from my funeral and you'd be sitting around crying about Huckleberry,"_ Maya muses, her voice coming from right next to Riley's head.

"It doesn't feel real, yet," Riley admitted, wondering when she'd slipped into insanity and how no one had noticed, "I'm still waiting for you to walk into the apartment and inform us that it's all some elaborate joke."

 _"Out of the two of us, you were always better at pulling a disappearing act,"_ Maya pointed out.

"You were the first place they looked when I decided to leave," Riley reminded her, "And if Lucas had found me, I would have gone back."

 _"Like I would have let you, after what you told me at the hospital. Remember?"_ there's something about the words that pulls at something in the back of her memory, but it slips away from her whenever she thinks that she's getting close.

"No, I don't," Riley admitted.

 _"Open the envelope, Riley. Someone has to know all my secrets, now that I'm gone."_

Her eyes snap open and sunlight is already streaming under the door. Her neck is stiff and she's not sure when she dozed off, though it's the only explanation for her hallucination. The pictures are still spread out around her and the envelope is sitting right next to her hand, as though it's just waiting for her to open it.

She, slowly, picks it up, feeling something hard through the white paper. She runs a finger under the top and turns it over in her lap, watching as a key settled between her legs, along with a carefully folded note.

She turns to the paper first, the words giving little context into what she had stumbled upon:

 _M,_

 _Hope you never have a reason to open this, but if something happens, you might need the insurance._

 _Always,_

 _Z_

* * *

 **Honestly, I hate this chapter. I've had massive writer's block for months and those people who tell you to write through it, have never read what I've come up with when I'm trying to write through it. This chapter required massive editing, I ended up losing most of the flashbacks in an unfortunate technical problem, and there are still parts of this chapter that really make me cringe. But, if I stare at it any longer, I'm going to give up writing altogether.**

 **That said, I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and has continued to support my stories. I'm sorry that I'm so behind on responding to reviews and updating. It's been a rough a couple of months, but I appreciate everyone that's been willing to stick with me.**

 **Thank you for reading! And I would love it if you would let me know what you think!**


	7. Episode Six: Prisoner's Dilemma

_"Look who's digging their own grave_  
 _That is what they all say_  
 _You'll drink yourself to death_

 _Look who makes their own bed_  
 _Lies right down within it_  
 _And what will you have left?"_

 _-Bastille, "Icarus."_

* * *

He has detailed funeral plans and a living will. It's easier that way, then forcing the people who care about you to try and figure out what you want or what's appropriate.

His father had left detailed instructions on what was to happen to his company in the event that he became incapacitated and he had life insurance, but there was nothing on where he wanted to be buried. His mother had even less. Planning their funerals might have been one of the single worst things that he'd ever had to do.

So, he'd made things simple for whoever survived him: burn him to ash, let Riley decide what she wanted done with them (Knowing her it would be sentimental and better than anything he could come up with, anyway), any memorial was to be private and not to exceed twenty minutes in length, and everything he has goes to his daughter.

It was rational, it was emotionless, and it was _him_.

Maya didn't leave a plan, but, then again, she'd always believed she was going to cheat death. He'd half-believed her, too.

 _He'd been a self-proclaimed Atheist through middle school and high school. Life made more sense when it was comprised of what you could see and touch. It didn't require intuitive leaps or hope or faith. And it was easier to believe that things just were, than to try and make sense of the injustices and suffering of the world._

 _Zay had more of a cover-all-my-bases approach to religion, Lucas was firmly rooted in his beliefs, right along with Riley, and Smackle tended to see things his way. Though, that had never stopped her from attending Christmas mass with her mother._

 _Maya kept herself decidedly neutral. He'd always found something weak in her refusal to take a firm stance on something. People saw her as bold and fearless; saw the way her eyes danced and her lips quirked. She was beautiful and sure of herself and nothing was ever going to stand in her way._

 _But Farkle had known her long enough to recognize that she wasn't really any of those things. She was whatever and whoever she thought you wanted her to be; desperate for love and acceptance. To Riley, she was brave; to Lucas, a foil; to Zay, she was unattainable._

 _To him…_

 _They sat pressed together on a wooden pew as Mr. Mathews gave a eulogy from the front of the church. Riley was crying; her mother's arm wrapped tightly around her as they both sat hunched over in grief. His parents were sitting in the row in front of him; holding hands in a rare show of unity. Katy was wrapped around Shawn, though it was clear that he really just wanted to be left alone and allowed to mourn in his own way._

 _The family's driver had driven them the three hours that morning; so early that the sun hadn't even risen, until they'd pulled into his grandparent's (his mother's parents because his father had a flight to catch late that afternoon) driveway and he'd watched its slow ascent over the neighborhood._

 _They'd eaten breakfast, while his grandmother struggled to carry the conversation; chattering about her garden and his mother's childhood friend that had moved back home after a nasty divorce. His father's too busy composing an email on his smartphone to notice the way his mother pales and shoots a stern look at her mother. But Farkle's awake enough to catch it._

 _After, they dress in the nice clothes that his mother had picked out and carefully hung in garment bags and, then, they make their way to the chapel, where Farkle had immediately gone over to Maya and Riley._

 _Mr. Feeny was a legend to him, a bedtime story. He could count the number of times he'd actually met the man on one hand and he feels awkward being surrounded by people that actually loved him. Any emotion that he chooses to show feels counterfeit. So, he sits with his back ramrod straight and pretends that he's listening to the choked, but eloquent words that are coming from Riley's father's mouth._

 _The funeral's long, the graveside's longer; probably because nobody's ready to say goodbye. And when it all gets to be too much, he wanders off, not entirely surprised that Maya chooses to trail along beside him._

 _He picks his way through the headstones, his feet sinking in the grass and his head beading with sweat from the time spend under direct sunlight. He's not even sure that he has a destination, until he's pausing in front of the cracked stone steps of a mausoleum._

 _Perched on the top is an angel with outspread wings and a long gown that flows down into the stone around her. Her face holds the gentlest of smiles and one hand rests on top of her chest, as she stares across the cemetery with unseeing eyes._

 _"She looks kind of like Riley, doesn't she?" Maya commented; tilting her head into an awkward angle as she surveyed the statue._

 _If Farkle's being honest; the angel looks a lot more like Maya, then the brunette. Her stone face is heart shaped and her hair is fanned out, with just enough detail left to show that her face had once been framed with wild curls._

 _But, the stone is dark enough to make Farkle believe that maybe the eyes were meant to be brown and maybe the hair is meant to be brunette. Or, maybe, he's just putting too much thought into it._

 _"I'd want Riley to guard my resting place," Farkle offered, instead; sinking down into the grass beside the front steps. It's warm and Maya doesn't hesitate in collapsing beside him and tilting her head up to gaze at the sky._

 _"You think that's what happens when we die? We guard the living? And the dead?" Maya questioned and Farkle wondered if she was thinking about her Gammy Hart, who had passed away the fall before._

 _"Maybe," Farkle settled for halfway; figuring that there was a time to make a statement of his beliefs and a time to accept that his ideas weren't nearly as pretty as the ones that Riley tended to feed them._

 _Maya spread her skirt down over her legs, before falling back into the grass; her hair turning gold in the sunlight, "Riley's not here. You can tell me what you really think."_

 _"I don't know what happens when we die, Maya. I can tell you that your body starts decomposing, that it returns to being a part of the earth. I can tell you that your heart stops beating, your brain stops generating thought, everything that essentially comprises you has no evidence of continuing to function."_

 _"So, you think we just cease to exist," Maya summarized, her voice giving no context clues of what she's feeling._

 _"I haven't found any substantive proof, otherwise. But, then, what's the point of all of this? Why do we experience pain, love, joy, heartbreak? What's the point of living, if it all means nothing in the end?" Farkle offered._

 _"All that thinking must make your head hurt," Maya sighed and he let out a startled laugh before falling into the grass beside her._

 _A slight breeze whistled through the trees around them and a cloud blazed a trail across the sky. It was too beautiful a summer day for a funeral, but the universe didn't seem to have gotten the memo._

 _"What do you think happens when we die?" Farkle glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He can tell he's caught her off guard with the question and he realizes that he's never really gone to her with deep questions. He wonders if anyone has._

 _"I don't ever intend to find out," she replied; her eyes daring him to argue with her using science and logic._

 _But she's Maya; Part myth, part legend, part human. If anyone was going to defy science and logic, it would be her. Probably, just to spite him._

She wasn't supposed to die in a hotel room surrounded by alcohol. She wasn't supposed to die _alone_. They'd promised each other that they wouldn't die the way they'd lived.

He wasn't the kind of person to get caught up in the platitudes about good people dying young or bad people becoming a product of their lifestyle. People were never just one thing. But, _this_ didn't make any sense.

Because someone as full of life as she was; wasn't supposed to be mortal, in the end. She lived life boldly and fearlessly; she loved, she lost, she bled, and she felt. She felt things in a way that he'd never managed to do. But, she was also real and warm and someone that he'd spent most of his life loving.

She wasn't supposed to be there one minute and gone the next. Almost, like she'd never existed at all. Like the girl behind the hair, the clothes, the pretty houses that really lived inside of her skin would never flash a genuine smile again or crack a joke at his expense; would never cry on his shoulder or ask him to fix all of her problems.

She wasn't done living; wasn't the person that she'd wanted to be, yet. She wasn't done raising Savannah. Everything was left unfinished. And that wasn't how her life was supposed to end.

 _"Hey, it's me. I'm heading out of town for a couple of days and I wanted to put you on alert in case Savannah needs anything. We didn't leave things on good terms when she headed back after the break. I'm about to board a plane, but let's talk later."_

Farkle hit the replay button and leaned back as Maya's voice filled the apartment once again. The condensation on his glass, left his hand covered in a thin layer of water and the ice clinked around the amber liquid.

 _She deserves one day that isn't filled with lies, we deserve one day to grieve without pretending._

Riley's words echo through his head and he takes another sip of his drink; unsurprised to see that his hand is unsteady and his vision has become hazy. He'd never liked fighting with Riley, but there had been something different about this one. Something in the way she'd looked at him like he wasn't someone who had watched her grow up, who had grown up with her. Like they were strangers, who just happened to be arguing in the middle of a hallway.

 _But, if we do this the way that Maya's publicist wants to do this, Maya's funeral won't be about Maya. It will become distorted and twisted and there will be no peace._

There was never any peace, really. There was anger, frustration, depression, self-destruction, but peace was in short supply and closure was a made-up concept that kept people chasing things they'd never manage to catch.

Riley of all people should have understood that.

 _The news breaks early one fall morning and no one seems capable of looking away._

 _He hears the buzzing of voices in the hallway; the looks in his students' eyes as he writes the days topic on the board and stares down intently at the ethics textbook that is sitting in the center of the podium he teaches from._

 _It's a real-life application of everything they've been debating and any good professor would have taken the time to break it down for them. They would have debated who was in the right, who was in the wrong. Did the public really have a right to know every detail of a politician's personal life? Did it matter that Lucas's actions had been to protect his wife?_

 _To Farkle it mattered. But, Farkle had been there for the early viewing of the Riley-and-Lucas show; he'd seen them grow up together, seen them fall in love. To him, it was unthinkable that Lucas wouldn't do everything within his power to protect the only woman that had ever held his heart._

 _Everyone else was out for blood._

 _He talks about euthanasia; his students stare at news articles from barely concealed cell phones._

 _It's a spark that starts a wildfire and it takes weeks to put out the flames. It's as he's surveying what remains in the ash that he realizes that even if it was Riley's fire; it's Lucas who was left to burn._

 _It doesn't take long to realize that all the pictures of Riley they're showing are old. Her face, covered in healing bruises and staring intently at the ground, smears every major news outlet. But, they're all using the same photo that looks like it was taken up against a generic colored wall. It could have been taken, anywhere. But, she doesn't look like she's shying away from it._

 _She was an annotation and a puff-piece before she fell from grace and every other photo shows a good view of her. There aren't pictures of her darting through mobs of photographers or hiding behind the curtains of her home._

 _He figures that she's holed herself up in one of Maya's maximum-security residences and is waiting out the storm, while Lucas smooths ruffled feathers in interviews where he looks dazed and slightly shell-shocked. His eyes are dead; his voice is hollow, but Farkle still wouldn't have guessed the reality._

 _"Do you have a minute?" the man's in a black suit and Farkle's never seen him before in his life._

 _He'd been darting from the bookstore and is headed towards the building that houses his office, when the man had stepped out from the shadows and directly into his path._

 _"If you have a question about one of my classes, I can be reached at my email," Farkle suggested, trying to ignore the way his heart picked up in his chest. There's something about the man's eyes that convinces him that it's in his best interest to get into a more public area._

 _He looks ex-military; with all the bulk and eyes that are jaded by far too much experience. Farkle's got a few inches on him, but he's skin and bones; all wiry and lithe. And, he's never fought anyone a day in his life._

 _"This isn't about your class. It's about Riley Friar," the man clarified and all resistance fled from Farkle's mind, before he let the man direct him towards a dark car with tinted windows that's illegally parked at the edge of a loading dock._

 _"I haven't talked to her in a while," Farkle felt the need to tell him._

 _He'd spent the last few days digging back in his head to figure out the last time they spoke; whether she'd sounded like she was struggling or having a hard time. But, the truth of it was that Riley had blocked him out a long time ago and everything he was fed was usually the company line._

 _The man just pulled the door to the backseat open and Farkle froze in his tracks._

 _"Get in," Lucas's voice was harsh and strained. He was wearing suit pants, but the jacket had been discarded at his feet and the top buttons of his shirt were carelessly undone._

 _His voice held no room for argument, so Farkle slid into the dark leather seat and flinched when the door was slammed firmly behind him._

 _"What's going on?" Farkle stayed pressed against the door; his eyes following the man that Farkle deduced to be Lucas's bodyguard. He rounded the car and settled into the driver's seat, showing no sign that he was paying attention to the men in the back._

 _"We're going for a drive."_

 _They pull up to Farkle's apartment building and Lucas leaves the bodyguard at the car, communicating with a series of grunts and gestures that he wants Farkle to take him up. So, Farkle leads him up the stairs and pauses in front of the door; wondering what Lucas is thinking about his journey from the penthouse to a walk-up with flickering lights and stained floors._

 _"Riley?" Lucas calls out, as soon as the door is open and Farkle has managed to get out of his way, "I know you're here. You might as well come out."_

 _Farkle watches, helplessly, as Lucas pulls open doors and closets, finally making his way to the kitchen and slamming open each of the cabinet doors._

 _There's a heavy silence as Lucas catches his breath and Farkle, finally, gets around to closing the front door and leaning against it, as he waits for some kind of explanation._

 _"She's really not here?" Lucas's voice sounds lost and tired._

 _"No, she's not," Farkle offered; wondering if he was about to be treated to a Texas-Lucas blowup._

 _"I've had people staking out Maya's houses, I went to visit her parents, I talked to Auggie. My only consolation is that if she were dead in a ditch somewhere; someone would have reported it," Lucas sighed, "She has the most recognizable face in the country, right now, and, yet, no one can find her."_

 _"How long has she been gone?" Farkle struggled to catch up with the new information that was being thrown at him._

 _"A week before the story was released. I'm guessing that Zay gave her a heads up," Lucas paused as his fist slammed against the countertop, "To help him feel better about tearing her life apart; tearing our life apart. And she did what she always does and sacrificed herself. The narratives better that way, you know? Without my drug addict, alcoholic wife around to make me look bad."_

 _"I'm sorry," Farkle offers; unable to offer anything more._

 _"She's been depressed, but this person that the media is portraying, isn't her. They don't know the half of what we've been through. She makes one mistake and suddenly she has a drinking problem; suddenly she's abusing narcotics. That's not Riley," he pleads with Farkle to understand and Farkle can't help noticing the details of the blood-shot eyes and dark circles and wondering if Lucas might be the one who's been drinking._

 _"I know she isn't," Farkle assured him._

 _"She needs to come home. We can leave all of this behind, but she has to come home," Lucas continued, not seeming to hear him._

 _"She hasn't contacted me. I can't remember the last time that we even talked. I don't know where she is or where she would go."_

 _"But if she does?" Lucas pressed._

 _"I'll tell her to call you," Farkle promised and Lucas nodded once, before brushing passed Farkle on his way out the door._

 _Farkle's apartment looks like a tornado has swept through it, but Farkle can't bring himself to be upset. He recognizes the raw desperation and pain that he'd seen in Lucas's eyes. There's something all too familiar about it._

 _He calls Maya and listens as the phone rings, feeling uncomfortable inside of his own apartment._

 _"Now's not a good time," she answers and there's an edge to her voice that he knows belongs to only him. He can't remember a time when it hasn't been there, but there must have been one somewhere in their past._

 _"Lucas just stopped by to redecorate my apartment. You care to weigh in on what's going on?" Farkle suggested._

 _"He's run out of hired help and, now, he's having to do his own bidding?" Maya suggested and he can imagine the exact expression on her face. The careless indifference that would be in her brow, the angry tilt of her lips and the genuine worry that he would find in her eyes._

 _"You don't know where she is, either," Farkle deduced and he could hear the slight catch in her breath over the phone._

 _"I'm going to handle it. I just need you to stay out of the way, okay?"_

 _"Maya-" She cut him off before he could continue his protest._

 _"Listen to me, for Savvy's sake, I need you to stay out of this."_

 _She always knew exactly what to say that would get to him, "Okay."_

He holds the glass tightly enough that he's sure it's going to shatter in his hands and, when it doesn't, he lets it fall to the floor; smearing the hardwood with jagged icicles.

What was that saying about stones and glass houses?

" _Hey, it's me…."_

* * *

When he wakes; his head is pounding, but his thoughts are clearer. Each detail of his apartment comes into high definition and he can make out the light reflecting off the glass that litters the floor. For one brief moment, he's reminded of the ocean; miles and miles of it stretching in every direction and consuming everything that dares to gets too close.

And, then, he blinks and the image settles.

His phone is dead on the cushion beside him and the taste of his own saliva leaves him feeling nauseated, so he carefully picks his way through the wreckage to the bathroom and turns on the shower.

The water beats like rain against the porcelain and he gets in fully clothed; letting the bite of the cold water keep him present in the moment. It was all too easy to slip away and let himself get lost in memories.

He can almost see Maya's outline through the shower curtain; her voice echoing off the tiles:

 _"You can't let the fear control you. It's just water and what is water made of?" she insisted; not caring that she was getting splattered in water droplets and that his clothes had suddenly taken on three times their weight._

 _"Hydrogen and oxygen," Farkle repeated, obediently; tracing out the shape of the molecules in his head, trying to break it down until it was something distant and precise._

 _He can see the steady rise and fall of her chest; as the adrenaline wears off and she seems to get caught up in the moment. They're supposed to be driving to Philly for the funeral in a matter of hours and he's not even quite sure what she's doing here; how she'd instinctively known that he was building an obsessive phobia towards the thing he associated with his parent's final resting place._

 _But, she'd shown up at his home and let herself in without an ounce of apology, before beginning the process of packing his bag and turning on the shower. All it had taken was one look into his eyes and she'd known why he couldn't quite bring himself to step into the water._

 _He's taller than her, probably physically stronger, too, but he hadn't resisted her as she'd shoved him inside and under the spray, repeating over and over again that it was just molecules; that his fears couldn't control him._

 _"They probably died on impact," her eyes are distant, now, "It would have been quick and painless."_

 _"That's just a thing that people say. We don't really know, do we?" he pointed out and her eyes snapped up to him in surprise, as if she'd forgotten where she was entirely._

 _"I almost drowned, once," she admitted, taking a step forward into the shower, "It wasn't peaceful or like falling asleep, but maybe death shouldn't be like any of those things. Maybe, it's better to go down fighting."_

 _"Maybe," the water is dripping down his face and his chest feels hollow._

 _She pulls him into a hug; getting trapped under the spray of water in the process, but as she looks up at him with damp hair and dark eyes, he thinks he can almost hear his heart beating._

He strips off his clothes before getting out of the shower and pauses to brush his teeth at the sink. His eyes look gray in his reflection and he can only manage quick glances before he's forced to look away.

He'd found religion; found a moral code to live by. He'd stitched together a life out of the decaying remains of what he'd made of it and, now, all of it was quickly unraveling in a matter of days.

But, Maya had a way of doing that to people.

 _He goes home to an empty apartment. The funeral is over and there are no bodies to bury. His parents remain lost at sea and he remains the newly appointed king over a kingdom he'd never wanted._

 _The family portrait that he'd sat for at the age of five was still displayed in the front entryway; no sign of all of the cracks that really existed between the three people in the picture. Maybe, they had been happy, then. But, there was a reason they'd never updated it._

 _He thinks about tearing it down from the wall; putting his knee through the canvas and getting the satisfying feeling of tearing apart the illusion that his parents had worked so hard to create. But, something stops him at the last second and he finds himself sinking down to the ground in front of it, suddenly exhausted._

 _"I have a picture, too," Maya's voice drifts from behind him. He's not sure how long he's been sitting there, "I found it in the back of my mom's sock drawer and I used to just stare at it and wonder if he was really as happy as he looked standing next to us in that photo, or if it was all just pretend."_

 _"And?" Farkle glanced up at her; surprised to find that she hadn't changed out of her black funeral dress and that her hair was falling out of the carefully constructed bun that she'd put it in._

 _"I don't have any profound insight, but I still have the photo," Maya returned, her shoes clicking on the floor as she paused right next to him._

 _"You're what happens when someone decides to leave and I'm what happens when they decide to stay. Which one of us is more of a mess?" Farkle questioned, phrasing it like a math problem._

 _"Doesn't matter; we're both survivors," Maya held out her hand to him and helped pull him to his feet, "You want to tell me where they keep the good liquor?"_

 _"I have a feeling that you already know," Farkle laughed; shrugging out of his jacket, as he followed her into the kitchen. She'd always carried an undercurrent of electricity that seemed to charge everyone around her, but tonight it feels dangerous._

 _She pulls the bottle out from behind his mother's low-calorie, cardboard that she called cereal and sets it out between the two of them. Before, kicking off her shoes and leaning on the counter in a way that leaves him captivated by things that he shouldn't be._

 _It's not his first-time drinking; despite the fact that he outwardly disapproved of it. Riley had blatantly protested it on moral grounds, while he'd sided with Smackle on killed brain cells and destroyed livers. But, that hadn't stopped him from indulging on the rare occasion that no one was looking._

 _"You can tell me no," Maya informed him; leaving him an out._

 _"I'm not in the habit of turning you down," Farkle returned, sliding into the barstool across from her._

 _"And that's one of the reasons why you're the only boy I've ever given my heart to without reservation," her words are careless, but her eyes are honest, as she pours the liquid into a mug and slides it across the counter to him._

 _Their fingers brush as he takes it from her._

He leaves the bathroom before he has a chance to pursue that memory any further.

His phone is still sitting on the cushion he'd left it on and he plugs it into charge on his way into the kitchen. He has to carefully maneuver through the glass, but he has no desire to stop and pick it up. If he looks at it just right there are a million Farkle's in various angles staring up at him.

He grabs the first box of cereal that he can find and pours a bowl; before realizing that he has no appetite.

The city looks polluted and gray outside of his window and the only place that he wants to be is the one where he's not welcome.

His phone starts ringing and he grabs it, not surprised, but still disappointed when the number isn't Riley's. He doesn't recognize it and his first instinct is to let it go to voicemail, but something in him slides the bar across the screen to, "Talk," before he's fully approved the decision.

"Minkus," he answers, holding the phone up to his ear, as he's careful not to step in any of the glass. He should really stop and pick it up, but he hasn't gotten tired of the metaphor, yet.

"Hey, this is Charlie Gardner. Riley said to call you if I found any new information on Maya," Charlie's voice is hushed and there are muted voices and the clatter of plates in the background.

"Did you?" Farkle pressed, pressing his hand to the bridge of his nose.

Riley had been ready to open Pandora's box, he still wasn't sure if he wanted to. Any way he arranged the details; they all lined up at the same outcome. Maya wasn't coming back, Riley was going back to her fairytale, Lucas would one day rule the entire land, and he would let his days slip away in a blur of meaningless busy work.

Like he wasn't the one that was supposed to do something significant with his life.

"I'm still waiting on the blood test, but I just got her phone records. Her last phone call was to the White House and I would put a lot of money on it being to Friar," Charlie rushes through the words, but that doesn't leave them with any less of an impact.

"Why would Maya be calling Lucas?" Farkle snorted, already seeing the headlines that would attack every news screen if this got out.

"The phone calls start last summer and Riley seemed pretty shaken up when she asked if there was any way that Maya could be pregnant. The easiest dots to connect suggest that maybe there was something going on," Charlie offered and Farkle had to choke back the nausea.

"Maya wouldn't do that," Farkle protested.

"She goes from the spotlight to the background, as Riley is suddenly the new star that everyone wants to look at. Lucas is still reeling from Riley's decision to leave him and date everybody's favorite bad boy Royal. The motive is there."

"Except she's been doing the on-and-off thing with Joshua Mathews for months," Farkle pointed out.

"And she's known for her great love and commitment to monogamy. Maya got around," Charlie argued and Farkle squeezed his eyes clothes, as he struggled to compose a rational argument. One that wasn't fueled with his own desperation for her to be the person that he wants her to be.

"Can you send me a copy of her phone records?" Farkle abruptly changed the subject.

"That's not exactly protocol," Charlie informed him.

"On an open investigation. This one is closed, isn't it?" Farkle countered.

"Look, if this isn't an accident, getting involved could be dangerous," Charlie warned him and Farkle heard the sound of cash register open and close in the background of the call; forcing the pieces together in Farkle's mind. This wasn't a sanctioned phone call and Charlie really believed that something wasn't right here.

"I want the phone records and the results of the blood test when you get it," Farkle decided; keeping his voice firm.

"There won't be any way to determine paternity if she is pregnant. Not now that she's embalmed."

"Just get me what you have," Farkle insisted.

He let his hand fall to his side, as he ends the call. Once again, stuck in his apartment. It hadn't hit him until, now, just how impersonal it all was. The bookshelf was stuffed with textbooks, the pictures had all come with their frames, the couch was second-hand.

When he died, there would be very few personal items to divide out.

He'd started out with the world at his fingertips and would end with nothing.

 _Her mascara is smudged under her eyes; the effect of her rubbing them, though, on her, it mostly just makes her eyes seem more pronounced. They're dark gray in the fading light and she grips the balcony like it's the only force tethering her to earth._

 _Then again, maybe it is._

 _"I just don't understand," she didn't turn to look at him and her hands turned pale against the black of the railing; making her chipped, black nail polish even more apparent, "What you're doing here, now."_

 _"I didn't know," his voice is choked and his chest feels incredibly tight._

 _He hadn't known; had half thought it was all just some dream that he'd conjured up in an alcohol and possibly drug fueled haze. He can't remember big picture things; just flashes of city streets and long, blonde hair, and laughter._

 _"That was how I wanted it," she reminded him; finally glancing back, "That's how I still want it."_

 _"Maya," he tries to cut in, but he doesn't have any arguments to offer._

 _He's not the stabilizing influence, the loyal one, or the genius, anymore. He'd shed all of his titles, along with his morals and he'd killed his brain cells just for the fun of it. But, in hurting himself he'd never had any intention of making the people he cared about collateral damage._

 _Smackle had been a necessary break; better than asking her to wait for him or asking her to watch him fall apart. She'd deserved better and that's what he'd given her in the long run. He'd sent the postcards so that Riley wouldn't worry. He'd turned his father's company over to people who would actually know what they were doing and, maybe, even enjoy running it._

 _There's no justification for what he's done to Maya. He's spent enough time arguing to know that he doesn't have any ground to stand on._

 _"I'm getting married in exactly six days and I don't know if it's going to last, but I really think that I love him. And he's so good with Savvy. He's good with me. Please, just let this go," her shoulders hunch with emotion, but her face is away from him again._

 _"You know I would have come. I would have been here for you," he feels the need to say. He wants to believe that who he once was, is still inside of him somewhere._

 _"We weren't in love with each other, Farkle. You were a mess after what happened with your parents and I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me; why I couldn't feel the way I was supposed to about Zay and, somehow, that translated into what we did. We were both in Rome and I thought fate was trying to tell us something, but we're not some great love story; we're two stupid people who made an adult decision that had adult consequences."_

 _"And I'm trying to take responsibility for that. I don't want to ruin your life, but I want to be there for Savannah, for you, too," Farkle argued; the words feeling like lead in his mouth._

 _"I have to think about what's best for Savannah. And, right now, you're not it," Maya's eyes are steel and her mouth is set, as he gets another glimpse of her face, "So, I'm asking you to let me have this. I'm asking you to go."_

 _"And if I do get my act together?" Farkle countered; surprised by how much distance could exist between them in such a small space._

 _"Then, we'll talk."_

* * *

He's not surprised when the black limousine pulls up at the side of the road. It's not Lucas's style, but he doesn't get a say when he's making official visits.

The door springs open before the driver can get out and open the door and Farkle glances into the dimly lit backseat. Lucas looks like ice; frozen by emotions so all-encompassing that to reveal them might just destroy everything in his path.

"Get in," Lucas suggests; his voice reminiscent of the last time Lucas had abducted him.

"Not until you tell me where we're going," Farkle protests; remembering the urgency in Charlie's tone. The things that had went unsaid, but were implied all the same.

"I just want to talk," Lucas assures him and there's an honesty in his eyes that Farkle can't quite come to believe is counterfeit.

"Then, you come out," Farkle suggests and Lucas nods once, before sliding from the seat out onto the sidewalk. Two men jump out of a suburban that is parked behind the limousine and Lucas sighs, but lets one of them move ahead to scout out the coffee shop that Farkle had just come out of, before Lucas is allows to backtrack with him inside and into a corner booth.

The shops in the middle of lull; right between the lunch rush and the evening crowd and Lucas's security detail find tables close enough to keep an eye on Lucas, but far enough away to offer the illusion of privacy.

"How's _she_ doing?" Lucas asks; stripped in a way that leaves Farkle wondering how anyone could ever believe Lucas could do anything to deliberately hurt Riley. His love is still reflected in his eyes and his heart is still broadly stitched out on his sleeve.

"She's angry and upset," Farkle offers; taking a sip of his drink and letting the liquid scald his tongue, "She doesn't think it was an accident."

"What do _you_ think?" a wall comes up between them, leaving Farkle with nothing to read off Lucas's face.

"Why was Maya's last call to the White House?"

"I don't know," Lucas admitted, though the slightest tensing of his eyes left Farkle wondering if he would ever know the complete truth.

The sound of heels clicking against the tile, had both of their heads turning and Farkle felt his breath catch as he witnessed his first glance of Isadora Smackle in a handful of years. She was wearing a tailored suit and her dark hair was pulled away from her face; swinging like a pendulum with every step in their direction.

"This stop wasn't authorized," she informed them; barely sparing Farkle a glance. He tried to compare this woman to the one that he'd shared his first kiss with and found that there was no real resemblance.

"I'm catching up with an old friend," Lucas's voice was a challenge and the briefest glint flickered in Smackle's eyes.

"You have a meeting in fifteen minutes," she reminded him, "But if talking with an _ethics_ professor trumps matters of state, I'll go ahead and let them know that you're _busy_."

"Alright," Lucas gave in, rising from the table and following Smackle towards the door.

One of the bodyguards waits until Smackle and Lucas are ducking inside of the limousine to hand Farkle a nondescript, silver phone that looks like it was salvaged from several decades ago.

"Don't call him; he'll call you," the man advises, before following in the direction of his boss.

Farkle slides the phone into his pocket, grabs his drink, and avoids the eyes behind the counter as he makes his way out into the street.

* * *

 **If there's anyone still out there, thanks for reading this! I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. I got half of it done, while I was on vacation at the end of the summer and, then, came home and have had the hardest time trying to finish it. But, here it is, and it answers more than a few questions from previous chapters. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think (Or that you're still there, I'm not picky).**


	8. Episode Seven: Treason

Previously on _Infamy_ :

Hey, this is Charlie Gardner. Riley said to call you if I found any new information on Maya," Charlie's voice is hushed and there are muted voices and the clatter of plates in the background.

"Did you?" Farkle pressed, pressing his hand to the bridge of his nose.

"I'm still waiting on the blood test, but I just got her phone records. Her last phone call was to the White House and I would put a lot of money on it being to Friar," Charlie rushes through the words, but that doesn't leave them with any less of an impact.

"Why would Maya be calling Lucas?" Farkle snorted, already seeing the headlines that would attack every news screen if this got out.

"The phone calls start last summer and Riley seemed pretty shaken up when she asked if there was any way that Maya could be pregnant. The easiest dots to connect suggest that maybe there was something going on," Charlie offered and Farkle had to choke back the nausea.

"Maya wouldn't do that," Farkle protested.

"She goes from the spotlight to the background, as Riley is suddenly the new star that everyone wants to look at. Lucas is still reeling from Riley's decision to leave him and date everybody's favorite bad boy Royal. The motive is there."

* * *

 _"We weren't in love with each other, Farkle. You were a mess after what happened with your parents and I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me; why I couldn't feel the way I was supposed to about Zay and, somehow, that translated into what we did. We were both in Rome and I thought fate was trying to tell us something, but we're not some great love story; we're two stupid people who made an adult decision that had adult consequences."_

 _"And I'm trying to take responsibility for that. I don't want to ruin your life, but I want to be there for Savannah, for you, too," Farkle argued; the words feeling like lead in his mouth._

 _"I have to think about what's best for Savannah. And, right now, you're not it," Maya's eyes are steel and her mouth is set, as he gets another glimpse of her face, "So, I'm asking you to let me have this. I'm asking you to go."_

 _"And if I do get my act together?" Farkle countered; surprised by how much distance could exist between them in such a small space._

 _"Then, we'll talk."_

* * *

"So, my father was someone that went on the trip with them?" Savannah glanced between them, a dozen emotions racing across her face.

Riley bit her lip, as she thought through her next words, wishing that Maya had chosen to handle this conversation a long time ago.

"No, he wasn't a student at NYU," Riley offered, staring intently at the knees of her pants.

"So, she didn't love him? He was just a stranger that she picked up off the street?" Savannah pressed, rubbing furiously at the tears that were leaking out of her eyes and down her face, "I was the product of some random hookup? Does he even know that I exist?"

"Does it matter? Your mother loved you, Riley loves you, _I_ love you. We're your family and we always have been," Josh reminded her, letting Riley off the hook.

"My mother killed herself, she literally drank herself to death. If you're my family, then, where were you? You can pretend that we're all in this together for as long as you want, but at the end of the day, you fell off the face of the earth when she died," Savannah pointed an accusing finger at Josh, before turning her attention to Riley, "And you only bothered to show your face after she was gone."

* * *

She, slowly, picks it up, feeling something hard through the white paper. She runs a finger under the top and turns it over in her lap, watching as a key settled between her legs, along with a carefully folded note.

She turns to the paper first, the words giving little context into what she had stumbled upon:

 _M,_

 _Hope you never have a reason to open this, but if something happens, you might need the insurance._

 _Always,_

Z

* * *

 _ **"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us, while we live."**_

 _ **-Norman Cousins**_

She'd forgotten how much she hates the silence; hates being trapped with her own thoughts. She's developed coping mechanisms over the years to combat it, but they flutter away under the shock of her latest discovery.

She's not sure when Maya and she had started keeping _real_ secrets from each other. The kind that leave this moment filled with all the things they'd never said; never thought to ask. She'd hated the distance between them enough to try and pretend it wasn't there, but the reminders are everywhere she turns.

 _I know that Maya still talked to Shawn and that she took Savannah to see Katy every Christmas. I know, I wasn't there for what happened, but, I think, that Maya was trying to let it go, Riles. What's the point of continuing to punish Katy? It won't bring Maya back._

Their bond had been thicker than blood; the kind of bond that spanned years and distance and time. She would have dropped everything she was doing to fly across the world to see her, but had she really known her in the end?

And if she didn't, what kind of right did she have to try and say what Maya would and wouldn't want?

Her eyes give a cursory glance to the papers that arc around her; the key that's pressing an indent into the palm of her hand from how tightly she's clutching it.

There's no happy ending to be found here, only regrets. It's a cautionary tale, if she's ever heard one.

But, she has no room to judge.

 _The diner is dirty, and she has to resist the urge to pull out a wipe from her purse and cleanse the table and the seat before she slides into it. The vinyl of the seat is rough against her jeans and she hesitates to lean back into the seat for fear of what other surprises this, "Fine Establishment," might be waiting to spring on her._

 _"I promise you the food's good," Lucas offers; his concern masked behind a tight smile, as he slides into the seat next to her and lets his shoulder brush against hers._

 _"I trust you," she assures him; looking away so that he can't tell that the sentiment doesn't quite reach her eyes._

 _He'd guilted her into the trip. Pointing out that she'd worked through the summer and they'd barely seen each other through the first few months of their second year. Missing out on Thanksgiving with her family had seemed like a small price to pay if it made up for all of the plans she'd cancelled on him in the last year._

 _She hadn't counted on his childhood sweetheart somehow working her way into all of Lucas's family's plans since their plane had landed. She hadn't counted on the subtle hints that she wasn't cut out for Lucas's country lifestyle or the way his grandmother's nose had wrinkled when she'd discovered that Riley's mother was a top New York attorney. Or the comments about what she missed out on by having a, "Working," mother._

 _"I'm sorry," the words are a sigh and she instinctively reaches out to thread her fingers through his, "I thought this trip was going to go differently."_

 _"How was it supposed to go?" she questioned; attempting to find some way to pull them from their downward spiral._

 _"Well, we were going to talk the entire plane ride here. Finally, get a chance to get caught up without any interruptions," Lucas started; his head turning to meet her gaze, "And, then, we were going to stop for food on our way to my grandparent's. You were going to lecture me about cholesterol and healthy eating and I was going to point out that we were on vacation and the calories didn't count."_

 _"I could still do that if you want," Riley pointed out; thinking of the time they'd missed on the airplane when Riley had insisted on working on a term paper that was due after the break and the way they'd spent several hours at the airport after the plane had landed, trying to figure out what had happened to her luggage._

 _They'd driven straight to the ranch without stopping and eaten leftovers out of his grandparent's fridge before collapsing in exhaustion._

 _"We'd spend the next day doing all of those activities that my grandparents had planned out. We'd go horseback riding and do the family picnic. But, then, I was going to sneak you away for a night of dancing. We'd come back late; laughing over something that probably wasn't even that funny and trying to be quiet, as we made our way to the front door. I'd suggest that we stop and look at the stars and we'd sit on the steps talking until the sun came up."_

 _"Planning the future," she added; as she thought back to the nights they'd had like that back in high school. Except, they'd been staring at city lights, instead of stars and she'd usually fallen asleep against his shoulder by the time morning had come._

 _"Yeah, talking about our hopes and our dreams and seeing how perfectly they always seemed to line up with each other," Lucas finished, his eyes staring intently at the patterns in the table, "I wanted us to find some way to get back on the same page, to realign our priorities."_

 _"My dreams haven't changed, Lucas."_

 _"But, mine have," he admitted, and she wondered if he could feel the way her heart seemed to pause for a second from the pulse in her wrist, as she waited for the words that would undoubtedly alter everything, "I changed my major at the beginning of the semester."_

 _"What?" Riley wasn't sure how she managed to get the word out when her mind seemed to have gone completely blank._

 _"I don't enjoy biology; not the way that I should if I'm going to make a career out of it. I spent hours memorizing nerves and parts of the brain and I hated it. I realized that I had this noble idea of what being a vet would be like, but the reality just didn't match up."_

 _"You can't decide to change everything that you've worked for because of one class," Riley argued; feeling her heart pick up speed in her chest, as if to catch up with the beats it had missed._

 _"You've changed your major how many times?" he pointed out._

 _"But I've never wanted any job, the way that you wanted to be a vet," she can feel the tears burning in her eyes and she quickly blinks them back, "I didn't have some life-changing experience that told me what I should do with the rest of my life. You did."_

 _"And that one experience means that I can't change my mind? It isn't what I want, anymore, Riley and I don't want to come out of school with a doctorate and all this student debt and hate what I'm doing. It's better that I change course, now."_

 _The silence hurts her ears; as his eyes run over her face, waiting for a response._

 _A man a couple of tables away is talking on a cell phone and a number is called as someone's order is finished at the counter. And, she can't help thinking that it's strange that something so life changing is happening to her in the middle of a diner in Texas, while life goes on for everyone else._

 _"You didn't tell me that you were feeling this way," she finally managed, and his eyes darken half a shade._

 _"I tried, believe me I tried. But, you've been busy with the campaign, your classes, and Maya's pregnancy. What I'm dealing with hasn't exactly been a priority, lately."_

 _"It's always a priority," she disagrees; even as the weight of his words hit home._

 _She'd expected him to be there; to be the one unchanging thing in a sea of changes. He was supposed to be the thing that she could count on to steady her. She hadn't considered that he might be changing along with the rest of them; that he might be experiencing things and forming a life away from her._

 _The realization has enough force to leave bruises._

 _"I love you," his hand squeezes the fingers that she had forgotten were even twined with his, "But I don't think we realized how hard things were going to be after we graduated. I don't want to be the thing that keeps you from pursuing your passions, but I want you to want to come home and meet my family; I want you to miss me when we're not together, to hate every inch of space that comes between us. But, that's not how you feel, right?"_

 _"I do miss you," she disagreed; withdrawing her hand from his, as she grabbed a wad of napkins to wipe at the tears that had escaped down her face._

 _"But when something comes up; it's me whose plans you cancel. You just expect me to be there waiting for you, when you finally have the time. And I feel stupid, watching you have a life away from me and unable to let you go."_

 _"I still love you," she protested, wondering how she hadn't seen this coming sooner; hadn't recognized how her actions had been making him feel._

 _"But we're not what we used to be; we're growing and if we keep going on like this we're going to end up unable to even recognize each other."_

 _"I don't want that, either," she choked out; overwhelmed with the feeling of being unable to breathe, "I didn't mean to make you feel this way."_

 _"I know," he ran a hand through the hair at the back of his neck, "That's what makes this so hard."_

 _"So, what do we do?"_

 _"We eat our food," Lucas suggested, "And, then, we head back and get a good night's rest, so we can catch our plane tomorrow."_

 _"That wasn't what I meant," she set the napkins in a wad on the center of the table._

 _"I don't know, Riley," his voice is a sigh and he springs up when their number is called._

She doesn't often indulge in what if's. There's nothing she can do to change the past, but she can't stop herself from reliving the thousands tiny moments that changed the course of her life forever. She'd never seen them entirely for what they were at the time, but she could later piece them together into the big picture of what she had become.

Once upon a time, she'd believed in destiny. She'd believed in some grand scheme the universe had concocted and was leading each of them down. But, that would mean that there was an inevitable conclusion; that they were meant to be in the places they were, now.

And she finds it hard to imagine that the universe would give Maya such an uncomplete ending; would give Riley a love like what she had with Lucas, only to make her watch everything they had slip through her fingers.

 _She can't remember dinner; whether they engaged in awkward small talk or ate in silence. She didn't taste the food and everything around her seemed to fade into a distant blur, that couldn't quite hold her attention._

 _She knows what's coming in a matter of hours; runs through the words Lucas might use in her head, until she can barely control the tears that are burning her eyes. She's not sure how to turn this trip around; how to get passed the conversation they'd just had._

 _There's no defense for what she's done._

 _He rolls down the windows on the drive back and lets the air whip through the cab of his cousin's borrowed truck. Her hair swirls around her face and goosebumps form along her arms, but she can't bring herself to turn away from the window or ask him to roll it back up._

 _The stars go on forever; spanning horizon to horizon, on the straight stretch of highway that looked like a direct route straight to the heavens. It might have been romantic in another context; she might have been clutching Lucas's hand and closing her eyes, as she let herself exist in the moment._

 _But, she'd left some part of herself back at the diner and she's not sure that she'll ever reclaim it again. She's not sure that Lucas and she are ever going to be able to claim anymore romantic moments._

 _She's pulled out of her thoughts, when Lucas pulls the truck off onto the side of the road. The wheels churn up a cloud of dirt and several cows watch them from a field behind a stretch of barbwire fence that he narrowly avoids taking out in his hasty maneuver._

 _"Lucas," the protest flies out of her mouth at the same time her hands brace herself against the seat and the open window; as the car comes to an abrupt stop and he shifts into park._

 _"We're going to go to sleep as soon as we get back, we'll sit in silence on the plane ride, tomorrow, and, then, we'll probably breakup in the middle of JFK," he predicted; his eyes wild as he turned to face her, "And, when people ask we'll tell them that we just grew apart after high school and that things just didn't work out; like what we've had these last seven years was just some silly childhood fling. But, we'll both know that we were always meant for more than that."_

 _"Are we? You're right, Lucas, we're changing and we're growing in ways neither of us planned on. We can't just stay because it's all we've known. If we're going to keep going, it needs to be because we're right," Riley argued; struggling against the part of her that wanted to accept his words and ignore the valid points he'd brought up an hour ago._

 _"What if I don't care? Right or wrong, maybe I just want you," His voice took on the dangerous edge that reminded Riley of broken countertops and torn apart rooms, "You told me that you still loved me, and I believe you. So, fight for me, Riley; fight for us."_

 _"You changed your major; for seven years you wanted to be a vet and all it took was one class to change your mind," The words came out, before she could stop them._

 _"Marry me."_

 _"What?" her head snapped up and she felt herself shrink under the steel in his eyes._

 _"You want a guarantee that I'm not going to change my mind about you, here it is. Marry me," he repeated, "You want a baby? Let's have a baby. I've never been sure about anything in my life; not who I was, or where I was going, or what I wanted to do with my life. But, I've never doubted wanting you._ Nothing _is ever going to change that."_

 _The words hung between them and she felt warm; despite being cold only seconds before._

 _It was supposed to be them; marriage, kids, being adults._

 _She didn't feel the tears that ran down her cheeks, until the water soaked through her jeans and she absently reached up to find the trails they'd left behind on her cheeks._

 _She heard the click of Lucas's seatbelt being unfastened and he slid across the worn seat; pulling her into his arms and letting her bury her face into the soft cotton of his shoulder. His hands rubbed her back in soothing strokes and she dug her fingers into his biceps as she searched for a steady grip._

 _"I'm not ready, yet," she admitted, surprised at how even her voice sounded despite her emotion, "I want to be ready, but I'm not."_

 _"It's okay," Lucas assured her; his hand finding its way into her hair, "I can wait."_

 _"You shouldn't have to wait. You shouldn't have to put up with everything that I've put you through. You deserve better," she protested._

 _"I didn't deserve you, when I met you; but, somehow, I got you, anyway. As long as I know, I'm still what you want in the end; I can wait."_

Unable to bear the memories that flit violently through her mind; she picks herself up off the tile and returns everything back into the box. Wishing that life could be as easy as tucking everything away behind a closed lid and letting things finally rest.

It wouldn't be that way tomorrow; when she placed her best friend in the ground, either.

She pulls at the long chain that hangs around her neck; fingering the best friend ring that had once belonged on Maya's hand, then the wedding and engagement ring that had once belonged on hers, before she pulls it from her neck and adds the key.

They all settle somewhere near her heart, as she replaces the chain around her neck; in a resting place as final as the cold, hard ground.

* * *

There aren't any closeups of his face as he lands; the wind blowing through his hair and his jacket (the black, Armani raincoat that cost nearly three-thousand dollars and that they'd had more than one all-out screaming match over) buttoned up over dark suit pants. His shoulders are just as broad as she remembers them being and he still takes the same confidant and measured steps, as he descends the red carpet that had been laid out for him.

She wishes she could see his expression; could read the emotions in his eyes. But, she's limited to the slight hunch of his back and the implications for why he doesn't stop to flash a smile at the cameras. Then again, he's on his way to a funeral.

She wonders if he can feel it, too. The numb ache that seems to burn inside of her chest whenever he's within a reachable distance. The reminder that she might be able to run, but she'll never be able to leave all of her baggage behind.

The knock on the bedroom door startles her from her thoughts and she guiltily turns off the television, "Come in."

Savannah hesitantly slips through the door; her eyes scanning the bed that hadn't been slept in and the duffel bag that Riley had been sorting through on the chair that sat stationed in the corner. She doesn't seem as upset as she was the night before, she mostly just seems subdued and Riley makes a mental note to pull her aside to really talk when things slow down.

"Was that the news?" Savannah looks pale and Riley's thoughts flash back to the hidden pregnancy test in Maya's bathroom, before she pushes the thought into the back corners of her mind.

They both know the truth of what Riley was doing. It's Maya's eyes looking back at her; reminding her that she was the one who had left him, but still couldn't bring herself to let him go. That she'd rather punish herself and drown in the pain, then give up the reminder that once their entire future had been stretched out across the mountainside; rising with the sun.

"It's supposed to rain," Riley offered, blinking in an attempt to clear away the memories.

"Then, you should borrow one of Mom's coats."

* * *

Josh has the news pulled up on his laptop when she enters the kitchen and he immediately minimizes the screen; leaving her to wonder what they're saying that she's managed to miss out on.

She doesn't miss the dark shadows under his eyes or the way his hair is still standing on end from a night of sleeping on the couch.

"There are eggs on the stove," he offers, and she glances into the pan that he'd indicated.

She can still feel the heat radiating from the burner and a third of a pan of yellow scrambled eggs are settled up against the edges.

"Did you make these?" Riley questioned; surprised to find that they looked edible. Josh's idea of cooking had always been ordering takeout.

"Nope," he popped the, "P," his head tilting in the direction of the hallway.

"She didn't get that from Maya," Riley offered; grabbing a fork out of a drawer and taking a bite directly out of the pan.

"No, she didn't," a smile pulled at Josh's face that fell as he glanced back down the hallway to ensure Savannah wasn't listening, "I got a call from Farkle this morning and if he's calling me then you know that the world must be ending."

"We had a disagreement," Riley admitted; refusing to look up from the stove.

"Well, I think you'd better meet with him. He got a call from the officer assigned to Maya's case and said you would want to know," Josh phrased the words like a question and Riley thought of all the things she still hadn't bothered to pass on.

The key suddenly felt like it was choking her.

"I'll call him back," Riley sighed.

"You said we're in this together, you want to tell me what's going on?" Josh suggested, and Riley felt her lungs constrict from inside of her chest.

"I found a pregnancy test in Maya's bathroom," Riley spit the words out all at once; wondering if it was better to pull the Band-Aid straight off or if she should have softened the blow.

"You think she was pregnant?" Josh questioned; the color visibly draining from his face.

"I don't know, but that's what the call would have been about," Riley admitted, "Did she say anything to you?"

"No, she didn't say anything," his voice came out monotone, "But why would she if it wasn't mine?"

"Are you sure?" Riley pressed; unable to think of anyone else that Maya would have been seeing in the last few months.

"I was with her in Vegas last week. If she was pregnant with my child, she would have said something," Josh grabbed his jacket from the back of the barstool chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Riley questioned; wondering if telling him was a mistake.

"Out," he punched the button of the elevator and Riley watched as he disappeared behind the doors.

 _The door is only open a sliver, but Riley can still make out Maya through the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her shirt is pulled up just above her stomach with one hand and the other is tracing the skin that's been pulled tight as it expands._

 _The red lines are faint along the underside of her stomach; though they're bright against the paleness of Maya's skin. And Riley's hand unconsciously goes to her own flat expanse of abdomen; as she tries to imagine what it must be like to look in the mirror and see such changes in a body you've barely begun to live in, yet._

 _There's a frown on Maya's face and Riley thinks of the baggy clothes that Maya had taken to wearing. She'd originally believed it was because Maya didn't want to answer uncomfortable questions about her pregnancy, but she wonders if there's more to it, now._

 _Maya had never been uncomfortable in her own skin; never sat in front of the mirror in a one-piece swimsuit trying to decide if she should wear a shirt over it because it still doesn't cover enough. Maya had always been in two-pieces; confidentially sunbathing at the edge of the pool and enjoying the eyes that tended to linger on her a second too long._

 _Eventually, someone would throw her in. Most of the time, Zay, though Lucas had done it occasionally, too. It was a part of their never-ending game to push each other. Riley was always first in the water; an oversized shirt floating around her waist and the hope that no one would notice her too closely._

 _She has a feeling that Maya won't be wearing two-pieces for a while._

 _She retreats down the hallway, slowly, hoping that the floor won't creak and give her away. She doesn't need Maya to know that she was intruding on a private moment and she's not sure that she has the right words of comfort for someone who is uncomfortable with their own appearance; when she's, yet, to master her own insecurities._

 _"Riley?" Maya's voice rings out through the apartment and Riley cringes at being noticed._

 _"Yeah, it's me," Riley calls back; pausing next to her suitcase that's still sitting by the front door._

 _"How did your trip go?" Maya's voice was quieter this time, as she entered the main living area wearing a shirt that hung nearly to her knees and left her figure completely undistinguishable._

 _"Not great," Riley admitted; sinking down on the arm rest of the couch, "Lucas pointed out that I've been ignoring him lately and what a mess everything between us has become. And, then, he asked me to marry him."_

 _"Not a great lead," Maya snorted; brushing passed the brunette to sink down on the couch and raising her feet onto the beaten-up coffee table that was positioned in front of it, "So, what did you say?"_

 _"I told him that I wasn't ready, and he told me that he was willing to wait," Riley sighed; tracing invisible lines across her knees, "He changed his major."_

 _"To what?" Maya questioned; her eyes widening in genuine surprise._

 _"Economics," Riley returned, "It's not something that he would have even thought twice about a year ago."_

 _"A lot can change in a year. I'm living proof of that," Maya pointed out; her hands moving to her stomach, "But if he's still asking you to marry him, I'd say he hasn't changed all that much."_

 _"Maybe not, yet, but people don't change drastically overnight. It's a process and I've been so stupid about how I've prioritized him in my life," Riley admitted, "I just expected him to always be there exactly the same as he always has been."_

 _"It's not too late to make a change," Maya reminded her, "But I think you're worrying too much. You've had plenty of ups and downs with Huckleberry and the two of you always end up choosing each other in the end. There's nothing to suggest that this time is going to be any different."_

 _"It feels different," Riley offered._

 _"Just give it some time and don't obsess, okay?" Maya suggested, squeezing Riley's shoulder as she got up from the couch._

The sky is overcast; filled with so many varying shades of gray clouds that she feels like she's in an old black and white movie. Everything seems dull under the dimmed haze of the sun's filter and a chill goes straight through her clothes and hugs her skin.

"Are you sure about this?" Tessa questioned; eyeing the building in front of them with skepticism.

"Yes," Riley decided; opening the car door and stepping down onto the sidewalk.

Tessa darted in front of her and through the main doors; her eyes scanning over the ancient stairs that stretch up towards flickering bulbs hanging shade-less from the ceiling. The lobby contained rows of mail slots and thin red carpet that revealed cement in places where it had worn away altogether.

"Didn't this guy make the list of wealthiest teens in the world?" Tessa questioned; as Riley met her at the bottom of the stairs.

"That was a long time ago," Riley pointed out; letting Tessa take the stairs first.

Windows caked in grime let in a yellowish light that lights their first set of steps and they, finally, reach Farkle's floor; which is covered in the same wearing carpet as the lobby. A dead potted plant sits outside the door she knows to be his and she hesitates a second before letting her knuckles rap against the unvarnished wood.

"I thought you were going to call," Farkle offered; not bothering with a greeting as he yanked the door open. His hair looked like it hadn't been brushed and was sticking up in odd directions; though he was dressed in different clothes from what he had worn the day before. She could see the glitter of glass scattered across the floor of his apartment in the background and she couldn't help wondering exactly what he'd been up to the night before.

"You going to invite me in?" she questioned; folding her arms tightly across her chest as she played to a confidence she wasn't sure she even had.

"I think we'd better go out," Farkle decided; grabbing a hoodie from a hook by the door and stepping out into the hallway.

He took the steps with the same grace he'd always had; looking unconcerned with just how out of place Riley looked in comparison to the building he called home. Her car was still running at the edge of the sidewalk and Tessa was barely a step behind her, but Farkle ignored both; leading her down the street and around a corner.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Riley questioned; managing to keep step with the genius, despite the urgency he moved with.

"I left my apartment this morning and generally when one's dealing in paranoia and conspiracy theories; it's best not to trust that someone didn't visit your residence while you were out," Farkle replied; pulling her through the doors of a bookstore and waving a greeting to the bored teenager sitting behind the counter, as he darted behind a row of shelves.

Tessa shot Riley a look that spoke volumes, but gave them the illusion of privacy; as she stepped to the end of aisle, where she had a clear view of the front door.

"You think someone bugged your apartment?" Riley clarified; her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I think this entire thing is crazy, but when Detective Charlie Gardner is making unsanctioned phone calls from diners, Vice-President Friar is taking the time out of his busy schedule to stop you on the street and ask about his ex-wife, and Maya's dead; maybe crazy is all you have left."

"Farkle," Riley sighed; wondering if he'd slept at all the night before.

"They'll have the results of the blood test tomorrow, but they sent over her phone records from the last six months. She called the White House almost weekly; usually after she finished talking to you," Farkle didn't pause for air, as the words flowed out of his mouth, "And, then she'd call Zay and the two would talk for anywhere between forty minutes to over an hour."

"And what exactly is this supposed to mean?" Riley questioned; bracing herself on the edge of one of the bookshelves.

"I called Zay's magazine and they said he hasn't been into the office since the day before Maya died, which explains why you're not being chased down in the streets. Have you ever known Zay to let a story about you or Maya go?"

"You think he's dead, too?" Riley closed her eyes; fighting against a wave of memories that wanted to break through, "Or involved in Maya's death, somehow?"

"I don't know. I just think this entire situation is far more complicated then any of us thought and I don't think it would be in your best interest to linger in the country after Maya's funeral. I think you'd better go home to your castle; pull up your drawbridge and stay away from the windows."

"You're really scared?" Riley observed; wondering what had happened to the man who had been running this entire situation since she'd found out Maya had died only a few days ago.

"I think whatever is going on is far bigger than all of us and I'm just an Ethics professor. I'm not a princess or a politician or a model. I don't have an army of security to protect me and if I disappear it could be weeks before anyone notices. So, yes, I'm scared, and I think it would be in your best interest to be scared, too."

* * *

The lines are long, mostly filled with tourists; who are speaking a number of languages that he can barely pick out against the background noise. Overhead, a speaker is announcing that they shouldn't be leaving their luggage unattended and he can't help wondering if anyone has noticed that he's the only one in line to have nothing with him, but his passport, his wallet and the clothes on his back.

The line moves forward, again, and he feels the passport start to shake in his hand; as the enormity of what he is about to do fully settles on his shoulders. He'd pledged himself to his country once; been raised on patriotism and the idea that death for ones' homeland was of the noblest ways to die.

What he's about to do will go down as treason and he can feel his ancestors turning over in their graves.

He steps up to the window; handing the blue passport to the man with the stamp and squeezing his hands into fists, as he struggles to keep his shaking under control.

"Please state your purpose for entering Froacia," he offered; barely checking that the passport picture matched up to the person using it.

"I'm seeking asylum," Zay offered and the man finally looked up; gesturing to one of the security men that were just on the periphery of Zay's vision, "I have information about a plot against the royal family."

* * *

 **So, yes, I'm still alive. I've been working two jobs on top of going to school this semester, which has made my life crazy (And me a little crazy, too). On top of that, I had an on-and-off seven year relationship come to a pretty conclusive end, rethought all of my life choices, and hated everything that I've written for the last three months. Which hasn't helped with updating any of my stories. So, I'm sorry for the delay and a huge thank you to everyone whose encouraged me to update in the last few months because there was definitely a part of me that was ready to just be done.** **I'm hoping that I can cut back to one job in the New Year, which will hopefully give me some much needed downtime that isn't spent sleeping or working on school.**

 **But, in the meantime, I have the start of first draft chapters for Heat Stroke and Laws of Timing in the works and I've finally decided that it's time to release this chapter, although I'm not entirely happy with it.**

 **Thanks for reading and I would love it if you would leave me a review! They definitely play a huge role in keeping me motivated to write!**


	9. Episode Eight: Fifteen Minute Flame

**I've tried three different times to write a recap for this chapter. I tried piecing together relevant scenes from previous chapters, which ended up being longer then this chapter itself. Then, I tried to summarize it with a quick paragraph, but it turned into an unorganized dump of information. There is a recap in the previous chapter that you can read, though it won't give you all the information you need to know for this particular chapter. If you can handle it, I would recommend a re-read of the entire story, so you don't miss anything. And, if you can't, I'd recommend, at least, reading the chapter: Last Call, so you know where we're picking up with Zay this chapter.**

* * *

 _"No escaping though you're running, you cannot find home_

 _Drowning in your desperation_  
 _Conviction seems to follow accusations alone_  
 _No place here for an easy redemption_  
 _If I lack your tears of joy, please forgive my heartless ploy_  
 _Said the fool to his majesty dethroned_  
 _Now excuse me_

 _Who was it who wanted every sec of the fifteen minute flame_  
 _To name a love to last through all your infamy_  
 _Who was it who wanted ingratiation in their definitions_  
 _When name alone can jail eternally"_

-Poets of the Fall, " _15 Minute Flame_."

* * *

The lines are long, mostly filled with tourists; who are speaking a number of languages that he can barely pick out against the background noise. Overhead, a speaker is announcing that they shouldn't be leaving their luggage unattended and he can't help wondering if anyone has noticed that he's the only one in line to have nothing with him, but his passport, his wallet and the clothes on his back.

The line moves forward, again, and he feels the passport start to shake in his hand; as the enormity of what he is about to do fully settles on his shoulders. He'd pledged himself to his country once; been raised on patriotism and the idea that death for ones' homeland was of the noblest ways to die.

What he's about to do will go down as treason and he can feel his ancestors turning over in their graves.

He steps up to the window; handing the blue passport to the man with the stamp and squeezing his hands into fists, as he struggles to keep his shaking under control.

"Please state your purpose for entering Froacia," he offered; barely checking that the passport picture matched up to the person using it.

"I'm seeking asylum," Zay offered and the man finally looked up; gesturing to one of the security men that were just on the periphery of Zay's vision, "I have information about a plot against the royal family."

 _The script for his life is written long before it occurs to him to want anything else. His grandfather had lived out his career in the Navy, his father had served before disappearing off the face of the earth, and his older brother had given his life to the cause almost a decade before._

 _But, it's not honor or duty or expectation that propels his steps when he walks into the recruitment center. It's the knowledge that this is one door that promises him time and distance from the place he'd learned to call home. It doesn't require forging his own path and the trail feels familiar, even if it isn't one he's ever walked before._

 _It's only after his name has been signed in all the appropriate places and he's at home staring at his ceiling; that he realizes the full impact of what he's done. He's not sure his mother will ever forgive him and, in trying to run away from everything he's ever known, he's managed to, also, isolate himself in a way he's never been before._

 _He paces the short hallway; pausing to look in at his mother, who has fallen asleep with the TV on like she always does. His grandfather's door is closed and locked, though he can hear the restless turning and whimpering that signals the nightmares that never really leave him._

 _Maybe, they'll be his own, soon._

 _He thinks about calling Lucas; knowing that his best friend wouldn't begrudge him the late-night wake-up-call. He might even still be awake, on the phone with Riley, as the two of them wait to see who can fall asleep first._

 _He'd always thought that Lucas would be enlisting with him. They'd talked endlessly about it in Texas; about going out and making their own stamp on the world. They were going to be heroes, or, at the very least, the kind of men that would finally achieve the respect of the people most disappointed by them._

 _He knows, now, that Lucas won't follow him. Anyone with eyes can see that Lucas is practically glued to Riley's side and he'd never ask her to wait for him; not when he's seen what the waiting had done to his mother._

 _He tells his own mother in the morning and he can see the old ghosts reflected in her eyes; the memory of a dishonorably discharged husband, choosing to leave, rather than live with the judgement of his father-in-law and of a son that came home in a box, with a flag spread across the top._

 _His grandfather pats him on the back; wordlessly assuring him that she'll come around and giving him the approval that Zay had always had to fight for._

 _And, he lets himself pretend that he's doing this for all the noble reasons they think he is and that he's not a child running away the only way he knows how._

The windows have bars on them, though he can still catch glimpses of the sea between the cold cylinders of metal. The walls are made of heavy, white brick and the floor is made of cracking, gray tile that crunches with each step of his feet. The only furniture in the room is a single table that wobbles and two chairs that are made of splintering wood.

Zay keeps time with the watch around his wrist and wishes he'd gone with someone more practical, instead of picking the most expensive piece out of the case. He'd surrendered his cell phone and wallet after being taken into custody and had already endured having his picture taken and his fingerprints run through their computer systems.

He's never been arrested before, but he imagines that the feeling must be similar. The looks that people had given him as he was escorted from the airport and into the nondescript transport had been enough to make him feel like a criminal.

"We'll take your statement in writing," the agent assigned to his case, informed him; stepping into the room with a bundle of papers and a single pen.

"And then?" Zay questioned; already feeling a bone-deep weariness set-in.

"And then, your statement will be reviewed; verified where we can. After that, we'll decide whether you qualify for amnesty or not," the agent explained; sounding, as if he were reciting from a well-known script.

"How long will all of that take?"

"Finish writing your statement, tonight, and, then, we'll take you somewhere to sleep," the agent offered; setting the papers and pen in front of him, "It's in your best interest to be as honest and thorough as possible."

Zay nodded once and waited until the man had left the room to stare down at the blank page. He'd written his own articles when he'd first taken over the magazine; a business venture Vanessa had claimed would never pan-out, but a distraction that he'd needed.

It had taught him that nothing could look more intimidating, then a blank sheet of paper.

He's not sure where the story starts really; the events tied so closely together that it could easily start with two boys who grew up together in Texas, or the woman that changed both their lives in New York, or the accident that he'd stopped believing was just an accident.

He's spent the last handful of years telling everyone else's secrets, while guarding his own. It's almost a relief to come clean; to lay out his own sins for judgement.

 _Riley's the only one that shows up at the dock to see him off. She's wearing a white-dress that flares out around her and a big, blue bow is cinched around her waist. It sways in the wind; along with the curls that seem to be blowing straight out of her hair. It makes her look young; like a child that a parent had dressed up and was putting on display._

 _"He wanted to be here," Riley reached out to grab his hand and he realized that the dress was for Lucas. His flight was supposed to have landed almost three hours ago, "His plane was grounded for repairs and he tried to switch to another flight, but he's not going to make it."_

 _"It's okay," Zay assured her; squeezing her fingers with his own._

 _She's the personification of innocence and redemption and he holds onto her a little tighter then he should because he's not sure that he'll ever feel the way he does in this moment again._

 _He'd said goodbye to his mother that morning, knowing that she didn't have the strength to come all the way to the dock and watch him leave. It was better if she could pretend he was headed out to school, kissing her cheek goodbye just like he'd done for all of those years._

 _His grandfather had shaken his hand on the way out the door and told him that his time at sea would build character and discipline; that he should enjoy it. And he'd nodded and pretended that he wasn't filled with fear._

 _"I told Maya she should come and say goodbye, but she's being stubborn," Riley continued, "She'll miss you, be waiting for you to come home just like the rest of us."_

 _It's a boldfaced lie, but a kind one and Zay tries to ignore the way it pierces at his heart._

 _There's nothing more to say, really, and he looks around at the other families saying goodbye._

 _"Take care of him for me?" Zay says it like a question, although he already knows that she will._

 _"Always," she agrees; crossing the space between them and pulling him into a hug._

 _He breathes her in; closes his eyes and lets himself indulge in this one last piece of home that he's leaving behind._

 _"Come home," her voice is a whisper in his ear and her lips brush against his cheek, as she sinks back down onto her heels and steps back from him._

 _"Only because you asked so nicely," he joked; surprised to see the depth of the sadness in her eyes._

 _He'd thought their main link had always been through Lucas, but, for the first time, he lets himself believe that, maybe, their friendship had some of its own merit, too._

 _"I'll see you around, Cotton Candy Face," he assured her; tipping his cap, as he backed away from her._

 _"Stay out of trouble," she raised her voice and he shot her a reckless smirk, before turning his back on her for good._

 _"No promises."_

The sea calls to him outside of the window and he can't help glancing up at it, whenever he loses his train of thought and his pen stops moving on the page. He'd never managed to get the call of it out of his blood, despite turning away from that life.

He understands his grandfather's love for it so much better, now.

He hears a rustle from outside of the door and his head turns in time to catch the door being hastily swung open by a guard that is simultaneously trying to straighten his uniform. One act being significantly better performed then the other.

"We weren't told that you were coming," Zay's agent was saying; his eyes looking wild, as he stopped to look at Zay.

"I was only recently informed of what was going on," the voice was smooth and accented and one Zay had only ever heard on TV.

"We wanted to see if his claims held anything before we brought it up the chain of command," the agent explained.

"Which is very admirable of you, but it's not every day we have a media mogul willfully submit himself to our custody," the voice continued and Zay blanched at the realization that this man was just as aware of Zay, as Zay was of him, "You'll give me a moment, won't you?"

"Of course, Your Royal Highness. Let me know if there's anything you need," the agent stammered and Zay watched as the prince stepped into the doorway and a predatory smile spread across his face.

 _"Almost," just might be his least favorite world. He_ almost _went to NYU, he_ almost _pursued a career in ballet, he_ almost _got the girl._

 _He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, unable to bring himself to drink it, as he sits and contemplates the state of his life. He's not sure what the name of the bar is or how he managed to get himself there, but he's not entirely surprised when a brunette enters and slides into the seat next to him._

 _He'd called Riley pretty once, but that would have been his last description if he had known what she was going to grow into. Adulthood had been kind to the once gangly and uncoordinated brunette. She'd learned to control her long limbs, leaving with her with the grace of a dancer, probably helped along with her time on the dance team in high school. And her passion for life hadn't wavered, but had been refined with time, leaving her the definition of elegant and sophisticated._

 _The girl that had said goodbye to him on his first deployment was no longer visible, although he didn't doubt that her goodness and generosity were close under the surface._

 _Lucas was lucky to have her._

 _"Your wife is looking for you," Riley informed him, reaching over to snag the drink out of his hands. The liquid spills; getting on her hand and his wrist, but she only rubs the liquid off onto her jeans and looks at him expectantly._

 _"I'm going to leave her," he admitted, grabbing a napkin to wipe off his own hand._

 _To her credit, she doesn't look surprised and he wonders what Lucas has told her about his situation, or maybe she's been talking to Vanessa. Does she know his failings as a husband? That he's becoming just as absent in his children's lives as his own father? That decisions that he should see as his best choices, are mistakes that he might undue if given a second chance?_

 _"What about your kids?" Riley questioned, her eyes dark against the dim lights._

 _"You know, I sat down and added up all the time that I've been gone. It's been over a year; months and months of time that I'm never going to get back. I go to sea for six months and when I get home, I can barely recognize the kids that I left behind. And the worst part is, that it feels like a relief. It's a relief to be away from my family and the responsibilities that I never signed up for. At least, I knew what I was doing when I enlisted," the words spill out and he's unable to control them. He's never been good at keeping secrets and that's one thing that time hasn't changed._

 _"You don't mean that," Riley's voice was filled with confidence, "I've seen you with those kids."_

 _"You see the best in everyone," he reminded her, his eyes flickering away from her and settling on the napkin holder._

 _"Maybe, but I_ know _you, Isaiah Babineaux. You're one of the most sensitive, kind, loving people that I've ever met. And I don't see that person tearing his family apart because life just got too hard," Riley informed him, her entire body leaning towards him with her words._

 _"You going to drive me home?" he questioned, sliding off of the stool and holding out his arm to her._

 _"It's a beautiful night for a walk," Riley took his arm, guiding him in the direction of the exit._

 _"Did I ever tell you about the first time Lucas and I got really drunk?" The words are a bait and switch; the same defense he's been using since his youth and something in her eyes tells him that she knows exactly what he's doing._

 _"That sounds like a good Lucas story," she offers, her hand squeezing his arm, as they find themselves out in the warm, summer night._

 _There are crickets chirping in the background and the streetlights have just come on, though there's still a hint of daylight illuminating the sidewalk in front of them._

 _"You're an angel, Riley Friar," he informed her, smiling as her laughter drifted through the air._

He's only ever seen Prince James Nikolaus Crista of Froacia ruining his reputation across the pages of magazines and on television and none of those things have prepared him for what it is actually like to suddenly find himself in the man's presence.

In theory, Zay's the owner of one of the most read magazines in the United States and parts of Europe, which means that he has an idea of what attributes women have found most compelling beyond James's title. His hair is dark, though it looks almost red when the lighting hits him just right and his eyes are several shades darker then the cornflower blue that James had always been known for. Though, the greatest difference may just be the hulking frame that towers over him and dominates the room.

"Riley calls you Zay," James informed him, turning the splintering chair opposite of him around and straddling it.

"Isaiah's kind of a mouthful," Zay pointed out, "Especially when you add in my last name."

"Yes, I suppose it is," James agreed; his eyes drifting to the papers that Zay had been writing on, "She's not very happy with you."

"Not very many people are," Zay agreed; his defenses rising against the seemingly innocent conversation starter.

"On the contrary, I owe you a debt. If you hadn't published the pictures of Riley and I, I may never have gotten the commitment from her that I had been seeking," he leaned back in his seat, folding his hands on the table that sits between them.

 _His rage simmers just under the surface, as he makes his way off the elevator and passes several groups of people going over the layout for the mornings publication._

 _He can still fill the faint buzz of the alcohol he'd been downing at the speakeasy, but his mind can only process the emotion that had propelled him back to the office he'd left only a handful of hours ago._

 _Kendall's door is propped open; something she only does during the hours after the office has cleared out, when she's kicked her heels into a corner and settled in to get what she calls, "The real work," done. Any other night he would be hovering, and she would be accusing him of trying to micromanage everything, but she'd kicked him out early that night, insisting that he trust her to get the magazine completed because he was falling asleep at his desk._

 _Isadora Smackle had ruined any chance of that._

 _"What are you," she trails off, as she gets a glimpse at whatever expression has settled on his face._

 _"I want these on the front page," Zay dropped a torn envelope and a stack of high gloss photos onto her desk and she blinked several times, as she struggled to catch up with the momentum._

 _"Where did you get these?" Kendall questioned; spreading the photos out in front of her and pausing on one that showed Riley standing on a balcony in only a buttoned-up dress-shirt that hit her mid-thigh. A man had his arms wrapped around her waist and his head buried in her neck and she was laughing in a way he hadn't seen her laugh in years._

 _Like she hadn't just burned her life to the ground and left him choking on the ashes._

 _"Does it matter?" Zay questioned, his attention landing on another one that showed a clear view of exactly who she was with._

 _"I've been in this business longer than you. I know that you've been buying up every photograph of Riley since she left Friar and burying every new story about her before it can get off the ground. You went easy on her with the car crash scandal and you completely dropped the narrative on Lucas's coverup. You've been protecting them and, now, you're going to tear their lives apart with a cheating scandal."_

 _"I didn't tear their lives apart, they did that to themselves," Zay disagreed, his hands bunching into fists at his sides, "And she doesn't get to do what she did and walk away without judgement."_

 _The words hung heavy in the air and he watched the defeat settle on Kendall's face._

 _"We don't have an article to go with these," Kendall sighed, sinking back into her chair._

 _"I'll write it myself."_

"The best kind of commitments are formed under duress," Zay baited him; wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Don't misunderstand me, she would have gone public with how serious our relationship was, eventually. You only forced our hands," James corrected him, "Unfortunately, you only had half the story, but that's nothing new for your personal brand of journalism."

"You must be curious about who gave me those pictures?" Zay attempted to gain the upper hand.

"I'm more curious about why you would do that to her. I've always had my suspicions, of course, of what possesses a man to ruin his relationship with his best friend in order to help his best friend's wife escape. You must have had expectations of what would happen when the story died down. And, then, someone shows you exactly where she ran to."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Zay fumed; his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.

"You expect me to believe that you've come here to offer information about a threat against my family, when _you_ have always been the greatest threat. Your fixation with my fiancé has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Babineaux. You thought your temper tantrums would draw her out or, maybe, you thought that you would hurt her as much as she hurt you. But, in the end, you've only insured your own obliteration from her life. Coming here, now, insures us of only one kind of safety and that is your silence; your inability to continue to harass my family and the woman that I love."

"If you love her, you'll listen to what I have to say."

"By coming here you put yourself at my country's mercy. There's no one in this room willing to buy your exaggerated lies," James stood from his seat, brushing off his pants, "Nevertheless, you'll have plenty of time to reflect. Legally, we can detain you for ninety days before rejecting your asylum and sending you back to where you belong."

"Before Riley left Lucas she was in a car accident," Zay forced the words out, relieved when James paused to look at him, "It was a massive car crash and it should have killed her. Lucas was out of town and he couldn't get a hold of his Chief of Staff, so he called me and asked if I'd go to the hospital and be with her. That night Riley told Maya that someone was trying to kill her."

"Riley is an alcoholic," James dismissed his claim.

"And, yet, have you ever seen her even struggle with saying no to a drink? Or seen her tempted to relapse after a bad day?" Zay pressed; leaning forward in his seat.

"What are you trying to suggest?"

"I have proof that someone was drugging her for months leading up to the accident and I believe that they still want her dead."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and big thanks to everyone that has continued to support my writing, despite how long it's been taking me to update. My life has been crazy, since I started my new job and every time I think things are going to start to slow down, they really don't.**

 **I'm in the process of rereading Laws of Motion and Laws of Timing before I attempt to update that universe, but I'd like to get these stories completed before the end of the year. We'll see how well I do. My fall schedule for work and school is pretty intense and barely takes into account time to sleep.**

 **I would love it if you left me a review!**


	10. Episode Nine: Chaos Theory (Part One)

**Rather then putting a long recap at the beginning of this, I've tried to include a bunch of background within the text, so you can remember what is going on. I haven't done an in-depth revision of this chapter because I wasn't sure if it would ever get posted, if I didn't post it, now. But, after I've gotten a few hours of sleep, I'll try and do a quick polish.**

* * *

 ** _Chaos Theory_**

 ** _noun_**

 ** _the branch of mathematics that deals with complex systems whose behavior is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences. Also, sometimes known as the butterfly effect._**

* * *

 _Before there were real balls, real tiaras, and a real prince; there was Lucas and Riley. And, for the longest time,_ they _were far better than any fairytale she could have hoped for._

* * *

She doesn't sleep the night before the funeral; instead, spends it kneeling on the bathroom floor, vomiting until her stomach aches and her throat burns. And, in a moment of clarity and dark humor, she can't help thinking that she's spent most of this trip on the floor of Maya's bathroom.

"Here," Savannah set a glass of fizzing liquid next to her, along with a sleeve of saltines and Riley can't even manage to get out a thanks before she's bracing herself against the toilet seat, once again.

When she's finished, she sinks back, letting her head rest against the back wall and closing her eyes. The tile is cold against her exposed legs and she wants to press her flushed face against it. The only thing stopping her is the last piece of her pride, which she's clinging to like a life preserver. (Because she lived at the corner of vulnerability and trust and all it got her was a bitter divorce and her name smeared across the tabloids.)

"You should get some sleep before tomorrow," Riley forced her eyes open, trying to appear more in control then what she felt.

"So, should you," Savannah pointed out, but she slowly drew herself up from the floor and left, leaving the bathroom door open just enough that she can hear Josh and Savannah's voices and the sound of her cell phone buzzing against the nightstand.

Riley pulled her knees to her chest and closed her eyes tighter; willing herself into nothingness.

* * *

 _In her darker moment she can't help wondering when things with James became inevitable._

 _Once upon a time, she'd believed in fairytales. She'd believed people were placed in your life for a reason and that some guiding hand had a plan all laid out for them to follow. She'd found the romance in, "Meant to be."_

 _It had taken her a long time to find her way to the age-old debate between fate and free will._

 _In her less cynical moments, she liked to believe that maybe the truth was somewhere in the middle; someone watching out for you, with your best interest at heart, who was, also, willing to let you try and find your own way._

 _In her more cynical ones, she can't help wondering if her entire life was on a collision course from the very beginning._

* * *

 _She'd always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol. She hardly had the body mass to compensate for any heavy drinking and her parents had instilled responsible drinking into the very foundation of her moral values._

 _She'd waited until she was twenty-one before she'd even tried it and Lucas had laughed as she'd coughed and gagged over the liquid that was scorching her throat._

 _"That is awful," Riley informed him; blinking away tears that had gathered in her eyes._

 _"Come on, Ranger Rick, you've known the girl for how many years, now? She needs something highly diluted in a pretty glass with a brightly colored umbrella," Maya cut in, taking a deliberate sip of her water and raising an eyebrow at someone who appeared to be openly glaring at her from several tables away._

 _"You're just bitter that you can't drink," Lucas offered, and Maya turned the full weight of her gaze on him._

 _"I'm growing a human being, Friar. Your immature pursuits are beneath me, now," she informed him; her hands protectively cradling her stomach._

 _"You agreed not to fight, it was the one thing that I asked for on my birthday," Riley reminded them, and Maya offered an apologetic quirk of her lips that only Riley would be able to interpret._

 _"I'll get you something else," Lucas offered; squeezing Riley's hand as he left the table to talk to the bartender._

 _Riley couldn't help frowning at the poorly dyed blonde, in the low-cut top, who immediately perked up at Lucas's appearance._

 _"He's not looking," Maya offered, and Riley forced her eyes back to her best friend._

 _"I know he's not looking, but that doesn't mean that he isn't weighing his options."_

 _"You had one sip of alcohol and you've already become completely delusional. That has to be some kind of record," Maya snorted._

 _"He asked me to marry him, Maya," Riley let her head fall into her hands, "And I turned him down flat."_

 _"Oh, we're having this conversation again. At this point, we should really just record my answers and you can just play them back to yourself. It would save both of us a ridiculous amount of time," Maya sighed, and Riley parted her fingers just enough that Maya could catch the utter lack of amusement on the brunette's face, "Lucas told you he was willing to wait."_

 _"But, how long, Maya? How long does a perfectly decent guy, who looks like that, wait for his commitment-phobic girlfriend to agree to marry him?"_

 _"His original proposal date was for your graduation, so I would say that you have some time, Riley. And, Lucas, isn't going anywhere. You're his one great love; the one that he'll still be talking about when his memory eventually goes, and he's old and wrinkly and falling apart," Maya couldn't quite conceal her delight at the thought and Riley resisted the urge to rub her eyes and ruin her carefully applied makeup._

 _"I don't want to mess this up. I almost did and coming home, working on things, has just made me realize that I'm never going to want anything else the way that I want him."_

 _"Refusing his spur-of-the-moment proposal, did not mean that you refused him, and Lucas knows that. He wouldn't be here if he didn't. I've seen plenty of ugly marriages and you and Lucas are going to make it, whenever you decide is the right the time. It's not something that needs to be rushed."_

 _Lucas's return to the table halted their argument and, sure enough, he placed a bright purple drink in a martini glass directly in front of her; his hands ghosting over where she'd had hers resting on the table._

 _"Thank you," she doesn't mean for the drink._

 _"Happy birthday, Riles," he pressed his lips to hers and they ignored the sound of Maya's fake gagging._

* * *

She pulled herself off the bathroom floor sometime after four; feeling just as nauseated as she had when she'd originally staked her claim in front of the toilet. Her head was already pounding, and the glass and crackers still sat untouched on the dark tile.

"You look like crap," Josh informed her, from where he was sprawled out in the living room, staring determinedly up at the ceiling.

"Well, I feel like death," she informed him; pausing in the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the fridge.

"Me too," he agreed; something heavy in his tone and he moved his legs long enough for Riley to sit down before resting them in her lap.

"Life starts back up again, tomorrow. We go back to living and Maya goes six feet under," Riley mused; resting the water bottle in the space between his ankles.

They'd never been overly affectionate; a hug here and there when it was necessary, but for the most part she'd never been entirely sure how to act around him. Growing up, their age difference had seemed almost insurmountable and, then, there had been Maya, whose feelings for him had put their relationship in an awkward place.

Maya's death; their shared grief, had broken down some kind of barrier between them and she wasn't in any hurry to put it back up.

"And you catch a flight back to your fairytale?" He questioned, and Riley forced her thoughts back to the conversation at hand.

"I want to know what happened to her. I want to chase down every lead, every aspect of her life that I wasn't aware of, but it's not going to bring her back, Josh. And I've never seen Farkle this afraid, before; this sure that whatever truth we uncover is just going to make things worse."

"Maybe, it will, but I can't just stop. I need to know what happened to her between the time she left me and the moment that she died in that hotel room. She had to have been planning something, Riley, and you know it," He sat up; his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that had her frozen in place.

"You remember in middle school when I was in that mess of a love triangle and you sat me down and had me play out every crazy scenario that was going through my head?"

"You want to do that, now?" Josh questioned.

"I want you to tell me that I'm being ridiculous; that all of these theories running through my head couldn't possibly be anywhere near the truth."

"Then, let's run through this, lay everything out on the table one last time and if we hit a dead end, then we give up and go back to whatever's waiting for us on the other end of this," his eyes pleaded with her and she found herself giving in.

"We know that you were with Maya in Nevada before she died; that she took a flash drive with pictures of after her ex-husband hit her on it."

"And we know that the flash drive wasn't in the stuff that you received after the autopsy or in what the police found. It would have been leaked by now if it was," Josh cut her off and she rubbed her temples, in an effort to relieve the war her brain was waging against her.

"We, also, know that her phone bill was filled with calls to Zay. What if she decided to go public with what Kyle had done to her?" She suggested.

"Zay doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to give the violent ex-husband a heads up that he's about to out him. The guys a jerk, but even he has a limit, doesn't he? And if Kyle has no idea about Maya's plan or the pictures, then he has no reason to kill her."

"Unless she was blackmailing him," Riley pointed out, fingering the key around her neck, "I found this in her memory box, along with a message saying that whatever is in the safety deposit box this key unlocks has insurance against something happening to her."

"Which is useless without a location," Josh sighed; reaching over to examine the key and pausing a second on the engagement ring that rested beside it, "You still wear it?"

"Not on my finger," Riley slid the chain off her neck and handed it over to him, before abruptly changing the subject, "It doesn't explain the pregnancy test or the calls to the White House."

"There's one person who can tell you what _those_ calls were about," Josh reminded her; setting the chain with the rings back into her hand and palming the key.

"I haven't talked to Lucas since the day that I left him," Riley admitted; the rings feeling heavy in her palm.

"You don't have to tell anyone why you left him, but he hounded the family for months trying to figure out what happened to you. He was a mess and not the kind of mess that knew exactly what he had done wrong. I don't know what happened and I won't make you tell me, but you had to know that you weren't going to get through this day without talking to him."

* * *

 _She was with him when he received the phone call; watched the color drain from his face and the horror settle in his eyes._

 _They'd had their legs twined together under the table and their textbooks stretched out in front of them on the table and, up until three minutes ago, everything had been fine in their world. Maya's hormones had finally started to settle down post-partum and the reality of Savannah had severely cooled Lucas and Riley's desire to progress their relationship too quickly._

 _Too many sleepless nights spent wandering the neighborhood and begging Savannah to go to sleep had thrown into stark clarity what growing up too fast looked like._

 _And, Zay had just gotten married in a shotgun wedding that was more depressing, then joyful._

 _Lucas and Riley were in a good place; were in an appropriate place for their phase of life and she, finally, felt like they were on the same page when it came to what they wanted and when they wanted it._

 _She should have known how quickly everything can change; Maya, Zay, even Farkle had been a testament to the way life can flip upside down in an instant._

 _But she wasn't prepared for this moment. It would take her years before she would realize that when it comes to the big ones you never really are._

 _"Lucas," Riley reached out to grasp his free hand, as he dropped the phone he had been holding to his ear with little regard for where it landed, "What's going on?"_

 _"My father had a heart attack this afternoon," Lucas spoke the words mechanically, like he wasn't quite sure they were true, yet, "My mother was out grocery shopping and by the time she got home, there was nothing that she could do."_

 _"Lucas," Riley choked out his name, unable to process the words that he was saying._

 _"My sister was in her room, she didn't know," Lucas continued; possibly unaware that she had even spoken._

 _"I have to catch a plane," he stood up abruptly; recklessly shoving his things into his bookbag, "I need to be there."_

 _"Of course, I'll help you pack," Riley offered; rising from the table with him and hurrying to grab her own things when he headed for the door without waiting for her, "Lucas?"_

 _"It can't be real. I talked to him last week, he was fine," He turned to face her; tears gathering in the corners of his eyes that he was furiously trying to blink away, "He was healthy."_

 _"I'm so sorry," she struggled to push all of her feelings into the words; wrapping her arms around him and burying herself into his chest._

 _She felt the tears land in her hair and held on tighter, offering comfort in the only way she knew how._

 _"I need to pack," Lucas abruptly pulled away; wiping furiously at his face and she nodded, latching her fingers through his and following him towards his dorm._

 _He immediately dug through is closet to find his carryon bag and Riley watched helplessly from the sidelines, as he started throwing clothing at random into it._

 _His family had moved back to Texas right after Lucas had started school. The farm was becoming too much for Pappy Joe to manage, though the family had joked that he was going to live forever, and Riley had believed it. He was nearly a hundred, now._

 _"Do you need me to find you a flight?" Riley questioned; taking an automatic step towards where his laptop was sitting on his desk._

 _"Yes, I'm doing everything out of order," Lucas bit out in frustration and Riley hesitated between reaching out to him and turning directly to the task that she'd just been assigned._

 _The furious way he dumped everything out of his bag and started over again, made the decision for her and she logged into his computer and pulled up the website._

 _"There's one that leaves JFK at 10:30. That should give us just enough time to stop by my apartment, so that I can grab my things," Riley suggested._

 _"Are you sure?" Lucas questioned, and she immediately grasped that he wasn't asking about the time._

 _"I'm going with you, Lucas. Everything else is going to have to wait."_

* * *

Farkle showed up sometime around seven; dressed in an off-brand suit that looked far nicer then anything she'd seen him in recently.

Riley was on her third bottle of water and had taken something for her head; trying to feel human enough to go shower before getting ready for the day that they had ahead of them, when Josh led him into the kitchen.

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife and Riley realized that she hadn't seen the two of them in a room together since high school, though whether that was by Maya's design to keep them apart, or their own personal feelings towards each other, was anyone's guess.

"Did you sleep at all?" Farkle questioned; his eyes glancing over her in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable. It was too calculating, like he was piecing something together that she wasn't sure she wanted him to know.

"Did you?" she countered.

"She didn't stop throwing up until sometime after midnight," Savannah entered the kitchen; already dressed in a black Rachel Zoe dress with long sleeves and a pleated skirt that reached her knees. She'd pulled her hair into a simple bun that coiled at her neck and Riley noted that she, at least, looked better rested then the rest of them did.

"It's been a rough few days," Riley offered; brushing passed the teenager on her way back to the bedroom.

It was a testament to how tired she was that she didn't immediately recognize that Farkle was following her, until she tried to close the door in his face, "We need to talk."

"We talked yesterday," Riley reminded him.

"Not about yesterday, at least not entirely," Farkle returned; his eyes moving down the hallway in a clear gesture that there were other ears listening in.

She pushed the door open and stepped aside; watching Farkle's face as he did a cursory examination of Maya's bedroom.

"I've never been in here," he admitted, "The rest of the place looking impersonal, I get. This was the show-house that was all about who she was pretending to be, but I guess I thought her bedroom would be different; would look a little less like a hotel room."

"Farkle," Riley sighed, and she watched as he struggled to pull himself out of whatever memories had sucked him in.

"My name isn't on Savannah's birth certificate. I know that I wasn't there when she was born; that I was a mess that took forever to pull my life together, so I was willing to accept whatever Maya was willing to give me when I finally proved that I was capable of being a positive influence in Savvy's life. But, everything's changed, now, Riley. I thought that it would be better to let her think that Josh was her father, but he's not. And, when she finds out the truth, I don't ever want her to think that I didn't want her. That she was the biggest priority in my life."

"You want custody of Savannah," Riley sunk down on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling light-headed.

"What's your plan, Riley? You're going to take her back with you to your castle and play house with her and your prince. Her entire life is here; her school, her friends, her home. I can be here for her. I can give her consistency and the closest thing to a normal life that she's going to get," Farkle explained; shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he waited for her to process what he was saying.

"And what about keeping her safe? You were terrified, yesterday, that we were digging into things that were going to lead to retaliation and you said it yourself that I've got resources that you don't have," Riley reminded him.

"When I had my religious enlightenment, I sold all of my stocks in Minkus International, completely severed myself from the company. I donated a lot of the money to charity, but I kept a last resort rainy-day fund. Between that and what Maya's left Savannah, I can keep her safe," Farkle plowed on and Riley stared determinedly at the knee of the silk pajamas that she'd scavenged from Maya's closet.

"If you take me to court, I can't stop you. All it will take is a paternity test and, my guess is, that the judge will side with you," Riley admitted; struggling with the weight that had settled in her chest.

"I don't want to go to court. I don't want to take anything away from you. I want us, the two people who have the greatest claim on her, to decide what's going to be best for her."

* * *

 _She's known Lucas long enough to know what decision he's going to make before he's even realized there is a decision. She sees it in the long hours he spends in his sisters' room; trying to comfort someone who feels just as burdened with guilt and grief as himself; she sees it in the way he helps his mother dry dishes without her voicing the need; and, in the way, he looks behind the beat-up Chevy that had lasted through three generations._

 _He loves the land; loves his family; and she's the only thing still tethering him to New York. He's got less than a year left on his associate degree and he'd been taking most of his classes online, anyway._

 _He's needed in Texas; needed in a way that it would be selfish of her to claim she needed him more._

 _So, she braces herself for what's coming and waits for him to reach the decision on his own._

 _"Will you take a walk with me?" Lucas questioned; his hand resting on her back, as she washed dishes in the sink. His mother had excused herself in the middle of dinner when she'd collapsed into a helpless bout of tears and Lucas's sister, Camille had driven Pappy Joe into town to pick up a few things before it got dark._

 _"Of course," she agreed; setting the last pan to dry and drying her hands on a hand towel, "Let me just grab a jacket."_

 _She stole one of his; breathing in his sent and trying to mentally prepare herself for what was going to come. Her only goal was to make this as easy and painless as possible. They'd hardly be the first couple to try long distance and if she was going to make it work with anyone it would be Lucas._

 _He was waiting for her on the porch and she sunk down beside him, leaning against his shoulder as they swayed in the swing and listened to the sound of crickets chirping in the distance._

 _"I have a hard time remembering that I ever had a life before you," Lucas admitted; twining his fingers through hers across the space between their hips._

 _"It feels like we've known each other forever," Riley agreed; a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth._

 _"I wanted to tell you that I don't know how I would have gotten through this week without you, but when it comes down to it, it's been a lot longer then just this week. I am the person that I am today because I met you. And, I don't have the words for how incredibly grateful I am that you fell into my lap all those years ago because you are the best thing to happen to me. Probably, the best thing that will ever happen to me."_

 _"I love you, Lucas," she breathed, "You're my first love and my last and whatever comes between, I'm sure I'll be loving you, then too."_

 _"I have to stay, Riles."_

 _She let the words settle between them, already knowing what she needed to stay, but struggling against the tug in her heart._

 _"You wouldn't be who I thought you were, if you didn't," Riley agreed; squeezing his hand, "Your family needs you."_

 _"But, the thing is, that_ I _need_ you _. And I know it's the single most selfish thing I've ever asked of you, but I'm going to ask you, anyway, because the thought of letting you go back home without asking you to stay feels like the worst mistake that I'll ever make. We belong together, whether that's in New York, or here, or anywhere else."_

 _"Lucas," Riley cut him off, her heart beating frantically inside of her chest._

 _"You can turn me down, but please let me finish getting this out first," Lucas pleaded, and she clamped her mouth shut, "They tell you that you shouldn't make any big decisions after a traumatic event happens, but this decision was made a long time, ago. Marry me, Riley. Come be here with me, as my wife. We'll figure everything else out, but a marriage with you is easily the greatest thing that I will ever do, and life is far too short to waste any more time when we already know this is right."_

 _"Lucas," Riley repeated; unable to manage any words accept for his name._

 _"You're going to go home tomorrow and finish up the rest of the semester and, probably, freak out with Maya about this. But I want you to take this with you," he placed a black, velvet box into her lap, "And, when you're ready, I'll be right here."_

* * *

Sometimes, she still believes that there are inevitable things in life. Things set in motion that are on a collision course with her destiny. Maybe, free will is merely how someone reacts to the things fated to them a long time ago.

Or, maybe life is just chaos; whirling past everyone without rhyme or reason.

The ring on the fourth finger of her left hand was eight carrots, cushion cut, in a white-gold setting. She hadn't worn it long enough to be used to the weight, yet. Sometimes, it still felt wrong; like the size wasn't quite right, though it had never slipped off her finger.

It slips off, now, however; resting against the towel that Riley had lined the sink with. The chain around her neck goes next, settling around the significantly larger diamond like they might all be friends.

One ring from Maya, one ring to Maya, one from Lucas, and one from James.

The steam from the shower starts to fog up the mirror and she slips out of her pajamas, once again, finding herself noting the weight that she's lost.

Once upon a time, she'd believed in fairytales. Not the ones with princes, castles, and jewels, but the kind you built out of simplicity and love.

She knows better, now.

* * *

 **Sorry, this is kind of a dark place to leave it. But I had to split this chapter into two parts and I figured this was the best place to do it. The next chapter is the big one, where Lucas and Riley come face-to-face in the present and the flashbacks show what tore them apart to begin with.**

 **If there happens to be anyone out there still reading, I would love if you left me anything in the review box, just, so that I know someone's there and thanks for reading!**


	11. Episode Ten: Chaos Theory (Part Two)

**_"Most people live life on the path we set for them. Too afraid to explore any other. But once in a while people like you come along and knock down all the obstacles we put in your way. People who realize free will is a gift, you'll never know how to use until you fight for it." -The Adjustment Bureau_**

* * *

She can still remember the first time she ducked out of a car and felt the weight of the world's eyes on her every movement.

It had been a state dinner at the White House, shortly after Lucas had been elected into office and she'd felt naked against the flashes of light. She would have been blind if it hadn't been for Lucas's steady hand on her back, guiding her up the steps and through the door, as though the entire moment wasn't marking a significant change in the life they had been leading.

Their quiet life in Texas was decidedly over and every moment from then on would be a part of a chapter she wasn't sure she was ready to embrace.

She'd done it a million times since then, with and without Lucas, but she still can't shake the surrealism of stepping out of the dark car and onto the sidewalk, while being watched like she was doing something truly remarkable by entering a building.

"Just ignore them and don't say anything," Josh advised, as Savannah stared wide-eyed at the sheer volume of spectators and reporters that had turned up to stake a glance at the funeral proceedings.

The entire street leading up to chapel was filled with people holding signs with words she wouldn't let herself read. It was better not to know; not to get caught up in the chaos and intrusion on a day that was supposed to be peaceful.

"Mom used to love this," Savannah offered; her voice quiet, "That moment when every eye was on her, trying to piece together what was going on in her head."

Riley figured that she probably loved it and hated it equally, but Maya had always loved a good contradiction.

They'd already discussed what order they would exit the vehicle. Riley would go first in order to draw most of the attention away from Josh and Savannah, whose entire objective was to get inside with as little fuss as possible.

But she hadn't anticipated the pure fear that was coursing through her veins. There were too many things that could go wrong with today; too many narratives she didn't want to see in the evening news.

And, there was the Lucas of it all.

But, there always was.

There was something about being in the same city; the feeling of knowing how close they were after all this time, that had her on edge. She'd been relieved when she'd managed to get her divorce without having to face him, but in the back of her mind she'd always known that she was just prolonging a moment that was a long time coming.

The car pulled up as closely to the front doors as they could manage and Riley waited for her door to be opened; before she twisted in her seat, keeping both knees locked together as she slid out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk.

For a second, the crowd seemed to go silent; leaving nothing, but the sound of the car's engine to echo in her ears. And, then, the volume increased ten-fold; screams, voices, and camera flashes pushing in on her, until she couldn't breathe.

It was muscle memory alone that forced her to rise to her full height and straighten out her shoulders, before she started her trek; counting down every foot until she reached the front door.

Her fight or flight response was on overdrive and from the way the crowd seemed to be surging forward and the security was struggling to hold them back, she couldn't help wondering just how close they were to being overrun.

"You always knew how to command a room, but this is just ridiculous," Isadora Smackle offered from where she'd been hiding behind a mass group of security at the front doors.

She was leaning against the front wall; counting on the sheer size of the Secret Service agents to keep anyone from snapping a photo of the Vice President's Chief of Staff's dirty secret. A half-smoked cigarette hung between two fingers, smeared in lipstick, though her face appeared to have avoided the accent taupe color that the dark-haired woman had been sporting for over a decade.

"They're not here for me," Riley corrected her; struggling against the purely emotional response she'd been unaware the presence of Isadora Smackle was capable of invoking in her.

"My mistake," Isadora took another drag of lung cancer and Riley used the distraction to make her way through the front doors and away from the million eyes trained on her back.

* * *

 _She can't remember the last time she'd felt so out of place in Lucas's world. Maybe, when they'd been newlyweds and she'd been stuck feeling like an intruder in his family's home and walking on eggshells, but they'd worked through it._

 _She'd never thought there would come a time when her mere presence in Lucas's office would be viewed as an invasion._

 _"Lucas is on a conference call, but I've alerted Ms. Smackle of your presence and she's willing to see you in her office," his secretary offered; looking flustered over the top of an unorganized desk piled high with memos and reminders scrawled across sticky notes._

 _"She's got you screening my husband's visitors, huh?" Riley questioned; leaning forward just enough to watch the truth play across the secretary's face, "Where exactly is my husband?"_

 _"On a conference call," Isadora Smackle's voice rang out from behind her, "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"_

 _"I'll wait," Riley suggested, well-versed in a power struggle. Her career in journalism may have been short, but that didn't make the tactics she'd learned for getting what she wanted any less relevant._

 _"He's booked all day. We're trying to get donations secured. Obviously, we won't announce anything, until further in the race, but campaigns live and die on who's footing the bill," Only the slightest twitch of her mouth gave an indication that there might be any weakness in the impenetrable wall that was Smackle._

 _Not for the first time, she can't help finding herself comparing the woman standing in front of her to the girl she'd been fairly good friends with in her youth. Isadora Smackle, the adult, who'd been left by Farkle right before graduation and attended Princeton on her own, was cold and withdrawn in a way that her younger self had never been. Where the Smackle of high school had been soft, this Smackle was hard and where the younger Smackle had been willing to let people in, this Smackle kept to herself in a way that had Riley wondering if anyone really knew who she was._

 _She'd never expected to find themselves at odds, fighting for Lucas's attention. Though, she knew that Smackle placed her career above all else and happened to have attached herself to Lucas's coattails._

 _"I want to talk about the naval base," Riley informed her; watching as the direction the conversation had just turned too registered in the brunette gaze._

 _"The funding has already been put into the budget. It's a done deal and whatever you think you know, I suggest you keep to yourself," Smackle's voice turned to ice and Riley felt the familiar satisfaction of knowing that she was on the right track._

 _"I asked Lucas to look into it," Riley glanced once at the cowering secretary and couldn't help feeling like, maybe, it was a good thing that she had a witness to this conversation._

 _"And he delegated the assignment to me. There is nothing there, Riley. Whatever line he fed you, James Crista is in the country to chase women, take illicit substances, and probably gamble his inheritance away. He is not here out of some altruistic need to look out for his country and, if he were, he would hardly be looking to a senator's housewife for help. If you are looking for a cause to champion; I'll have someone draw you up a list that lines up with Lucas's political strategy. I know you get bored skulking around that big, empty house with nothing but your alcohol for company."_

 _"What are you suggesting?" Riley felt the air leave her lungs and, for the first time since the conversation had started, felt genuine hurt at something Smackle was trying to poke at._

 _"Lucas mentioned that he was worried about your drinking. I know you took it hard….accepting, your situation. But there are other options, other ways of dealing with your disappointment," Smackle's words were dripping in over-the-top concern and the betrayal pulled at the numbness she'd been trying to incase her heart in._

 _"Lucas told you that?" Riley questioned; unable to avoid letting Smackle know that she had landed a punch._

 _"He tells me a lot of things, Riles," the affectionate nickname was anything, but affectionate and Riley found herself retreating so deeply into herself that she could barely register what her initial purpose of the visit had been._

 _Her wounds were private; something she'd trusted him to keep within the confines of their marriage and the idea that he was confiding in the people at his office; that all of them were staring at her and_ knowing _what was going on._

 _"Do you want me to tell him that you stopped by?" Smackle questioned, as Riley made her way woodenly towards the door._

 _She looked at the dark-haired genius; searched for any hint of the person that had once been her friend and, then, left, with the feeling that she'd just been defeated in a battle that could decide the entire war._

* * *

"Are you okay?" Josh's hand on her arm, pulled her directly from her thoughts and she looked at him with surprise to find herself in the church, in the present.

A somber melody was being played by an organist at the front and Maya's casket was closed and placed in front of a podium where Katy was standing and flipping through a pile of papers. She was going to bury her best friend, today and all she could think about were the events leading up to the dissolution of her marriage.

"I just need a minute. I'm going to the bathroom, save me a seat," Riley requested, struggling to string her thoughts together, before she forced herself to walk measured and unhurried to the restroom that she'd located the minute that she'd walked in.

She slipped through the dark wooden door and was relieved to find the stalls empty, after a cursory walk down the row. She paused at the sink to splash to her face with water and stare intently into her own hollow eyes, as she tried to pull herself together.

This day was about Maya. It wasn't about her and it definitely wasn't about Lucas.

As if merely thinking his name, somehow, conjured him, Riley's eyes flickered up at the squeaking of the main door opening and she found herself meeting his gaze for the first time in over two years.

It was like coming home and realizing that someone else lived there now.

"The men's room is next door," Riley offered, pointedly, her gaze dropping back to the blindingly white sink. She could still smell the faint scent of cleaning solution under whatever floral scent they'd tried to cover it up with.

"Riley," he breathed her name and the memories came, so quickly that it took her breath away.

* * *

 **3 Years Earlier**

* * *

Riley Matthews surfaces after ten years of marriage in the form of a signature, used on a motel room receipt, only four hours after she packs a single duffle bag and hops into the passenger seat of a taxi that was, also, paid for in cash.

She enters the motel room dressed in a pair of sweats that have managed to avoid all photographic proof of their existence in that same ten years and leaves the motel dressed in dark wash jeans and a pair of over-sized sunglasses that cover some significant bruising on her face.

Her hair is seven inches shorter and significantly more auburn then when she walked in, but the man at the front desk was paid well enough not to notice those kinds of things.

She leaves in a non-descript car that had been parked in the lot the night before by another man who'd paid for his room in cash and hadn't been seen since, though the maid would later claim that the room didn't look like it had even been touched in the night that the man had rented it for.

Riley only knows this because she would read it across the pages of Zay's magazine from a leaked police report nearly a year later.

The fact that Zay was the man who dropped off the car was conveniently left out.

But, Zay's stories are convenient like that.

* * *

"I know what I'm asking you to do, Zay," Riley informed him, her head pressed against the cool tile of the shower, as she sat on the lip of the tub with the water blasting behind her.

She's not sure when the paranoia set in, but she can't help thinking that there has to be a reason beyond what they're giving her for why she's no longer being allowed near a phone and why she hasn't been allowed to talk to Maya since the accident.

She still only can remember pieces of the night; dulled, blurred images that could have come from trying to drink herself into oblivion, but that don't make sense stacked up together. She can remember the anger and the desperate need to get out of the house. It had been snowing and she'd left without shoes or a jacket, hopping into the driver's seat of the car, as someone screamed things at her from the front door.

They hadn't tried to stop her, that much she could remember. Someone should have stopped her from trying to drive.

The snatches of time that she's managed to snag with Zay since the accident are few and far enough between that she knows they're trying not to leave her alone at all. And, there's this feeling in her gut that's telling her to get out; telling her that something is horribly wrong with her current situation.

"I know things haven't been great with Lucas. I understand you needing some time away from him, but you're asking me to book you a ticket with your maiden name and to leave you a car. Do you really think that you should be driving?"

"No, I don't think that I should be driving. The idea of getting behind a wheel again makes me feel physically sick, but you can't be seen dropping me off at the airport and I don't want any public record or video of me going there. The only way that this works is if I get a good head start and then blow everything apart before they get any chance at following me," Riley explained; her eyes dropping to the bandage that was carefully wrapped around her wrist.

She had a permanent branded reminder of what had happened the last time she'd gotten behind the wheel on her wrist, she had the awful bruising of her face, and the physical pain that she carried in her entire body. She knew better then anyone else the dangers of letting her behind the wheel of a motor vehicle.

"I promise you that I will be off all of my pain meds when this goes down and that I will be able to responsibly drive this vehicle the twenty minutes to the airport."

"You're an addict, Riley, your word doesn't mean anything," Zay sighed; leaning his head back against the wood of her vanity and staring intently at the wall in front of him, "And you're probably crazy, all your paranoia. Helping you; believing you makes me crazy, too."

"Lucas is going to run for Vice-President and convincing the police to bury the charges against me is just the tip of the iceberg in things they could use against him, but all of them start with me, Zay. I'm his loose cannon, addict of a wife and if they want him to win, then they have to bury me, too. I will never be allowed out alone, again. I will smile and stand next to him and slowly suffocate under the scrutiny, while I watch Isadora Smackle at the helm, and I will not spend the rest of my life that way."

"Or you could leave with me right, now. You could pack a bag and I could have my plane ready to go in the next hour. We could do this together," Zay turned the full force of his gaze on her and, for the first time, she felt just as dirty as an outside observer would find her.

Manipulating someone to get exactly what she wants, leaving her husband without a word, and meeting with his best friend in the bathroom, of all places, while he isn't home. Add it all up with the alcohol and the car accident and she's the poster child for the death of a marriage.

But, even if Lucas did know everything she was planning, everything that she was thinking, she still thinks that he might forgive her and that scares her more then anything. She might be trapped in a world of destruction and misery, but he didn't deserve to be stuck there with her.

He didn't deserve to have his career burned to the ground in the wake of all of her poor decisions.

Smackle's words from the hospital run through her head; her anger and accusations enough to make Riley feel physically sick. She was never cut out to be anyone's wife…to be anyone's mother.

"I can't be with someone, right now. I'm a mess; mentally, emotionally, physically. I need some time to find myself again, to figure out who I am and what I want out of my life. And, you can't leave, now, anyway. You've got your kids, Zay," she reminded him; struggling to get the words out without dissolving into tears.

"I've almost lost you twice, now. And I just keep thinking that if I don't get you out of here, you're going to die for real and I'll always look back at this moment and think that I could have done something. But, you have to promise me that wherever you end up you're going to get help, you're going to take care of yourself because I can't watch you continue to fade away like this. It kills me," his voice trembled with the words.

"I will. Just help me do this. Help me to leave him; to make this clean break and I'll pull myself back together again," she knows in the moment that she would have said anything, would have done anything to get him to agree with her. There wasn't a single card she wasn't willing to play and the knowledge of her own ruthlessness just feeds the self-hate that's been waiting to consume her for years, if not for her entire life.

* * *

 _They don't talk that morning; just brush passed each other in the bathroom as they're getting ready for the day. He stands in front of the mirror; shaving his face in the single circle of glass that he's wiped of condensation and she's getting into the shower that he's purposefully left on for her._

 _There's no real need for words. They've done this routine a million mornings before and are sure to do it a million mornings after._

 _But sometimes she wishes that they had said something. That there was something significant about that morning that might have warned her that everything from that night on would mark a drastically different world then the one that they'd been living in._

 _He's got a toothbrush in his mouth when she gets out of the shower; droplets of water running down her legs and hitting the mat under her feet._

 _She shrugs on a white bathrobe and wraps her hair in a towel and, then, she presses a kiss to his shoulder on her way out._

 _This is the last time they're Lucas and Riley without a label; a family without something missing. This is the last time they have a real normal and Riley wishes that they would have appreciated that moment just a little more, instead of taking it for granted._

* * *

There are so many steps to escaping Washington that she doesn't feel anything until she's seated on the plane watching the United States disappear through her window. Everything up until that moment had been about getting out before anyone could stop her and making sure that she wouldn't be found, but what she was supposed to do, now, was the one thing she hadn't planned for.

She had money and an endless amount of time, but all she felt was a crushing loneliness and the agony of what her life had become; the million tiny moment that had led her here.

It starts with one drink. She lets herself indulge in the familiar sensation of her throat being scalded from within and her mind being blurred and incoherent. There's no one to hurt, anymore, and she feels reckless in a way she's never managed before this moment.

That doesn't stop her from staying well outside of the range of drunk. The plane ride is just long enough that she's sure she could be walking off with a decent hangover if she allowed herself to go overboard.

She waits to let the regrets set in until she's checked in to a hotel room; sprawled across a carefully made bed and staring up at a smooth, white ceiling. She has a view of the coast outside of her window and no plans for the discernable future, but there's a part of her that expects she'll just fade into the bedspread and everyone will forget she ever existed.

The idea isn't as terrifying as she once thought it would be.

She doesn't get long to contemplate, before the shaking starts. Her throat feels dry and her vision blurs; as she bunches herself into a ball in the middle of the bed. The convulsions spasm through her body in pulses and soon she's lost control of it altogether.

Her legs create waves in the covers and her shoes fall to the floor in separate, violent movements that have her hands struggling to try and hold her entire body in one vibrating piece.

She doesn't notice the tears falling; until the sobs are choking their way out of her throat and her every breath becomes a struggle over the mixture of emotional and physical torture that has launched an assault against her.

Riley knew pain; was on an intimate, first-name basis with every form and phase of it, but this is something altogether different.

Her fingernails bite into the flesh of her ankles and all she can do is wait for death.

* * *

 _Her period starts shortly after a morning meeting with her editor and she, briefly, stops in the bathroom to insert a tampon and feel a moment of disappointment. She'd gone off her birth control, after landing a job with her finished journalism degree and they'd finished unpacking boxes in the home they'd built on a piece of Pappy Joe's property._

 _They were close enough that Lucas could continue to be there for his family, but, finally, had some of the distance that she'd been craving, since they'd been newlyweds living down the hallway from his mother and little sister and sneaking around like they were still teenagers._

 _She'd started to hope when her period was late, but, really, she knew that things like that took time and her doctor had suggested that it could take three to six months for the hormones to really leave her system and allow her body the right environment for sustaining a pregnancy._

 _So, she doesn't give it all that much thought._

 _She makes it through her work day; takes a couple of ibuprofens when the cramping starts and powers through the same way that she's always done._

 _It's not until she's home that she starts to feel lightheaded, which quickly progresses to dizzy. The room starts spinning around her and she sits down in the middle of the kitchen; forcing herself to take even breaths through her mouth in an effort to find some kind of equilibrium._

* * *

She wakes up in the middle of her hotel bed feeling an ache in every muscle of her body. Sunlight streams in through the partially closed curtains and it burns her eyes, though she can't convince herself that the discomfort of the sun is worth risking the discomfort of trying to make her limbs work.

She can't remember the last time that she woke up alone in a bed and it feels overwhelmingly large with just her occupying the space. She's used to navigating around another body; listening to another set of steady breathing.

Missing Lucas isn't a new feeling; she's lived with it for a while, now, even when he was laying right beside her, but there's something definitive about waking up alone in a strange city. She could always go back, try and put the pieces back together again, but she gets the feeling that they're never going to fit the same way that they used to.

It's a reminder that she's put the final nail in the coffin all by herself, but the enormous amount of effort in moving forward feels exhausting.

So, she retreats under the covers of the bed and watches the coastline through what she can see out the window.

* * *

 _She wakes up in the hospital; blood hanging from an IV pole directly over her head and a wild beeping coming from the machine next to her. She immediately tries to sit up, but finds her body uncooperative, as she looks wildly around the room for anything that might give her some context._

 _"It's okay, Mrs. Friar," a woman in blue scrubs hits a button on the machine and the beeping instantly stops, "You're in the ICU, we just transferred you over from surgery."_

 _She struggles to open her mouth against the fog that hovers over her brain but concedes defeat when the effort proves too much for her body. The nurse squeezes her hand, adjusting the blankets that were wrapped around her and Riley, suddenly, finds herself aware of just how cold she really is._

 _It's a kind of chill that has seeped all the way into her bones and she fears that she might never be warm again._

 _"What have we got?" a voice came from the doorway and she turned in time to see a man in lime green scrubs._

 _"Blood pressures better, but we still have sixties over thirties. Heart rates been up in the one-thirties. She's been in and out of consciousness. I've called the blood bank, but they're having to borrow platelets from another facility. As soon as they get here, we can initiate Mass Transfusion Protocol," the nurse listed off._

 _"Do we have someone that can run the Level One?" the man questioned, as Riley struggled to understand the jargon that was being thrown passed her._

 _"We're borrowing Doctor Kelly from Trauma. He's grabbing one from clean supply and, then, he'll be down."_

 _"I'm not running a Code, tonight. Susan's the House Supervisor and the last time she wrote me a ten page debrief on how I could improve my performance. So, do me a favor, Katie, and let's keep her blood pressure from getting any lower," he suggested, stopping at the sink in the corner to wash his hands._

 _"That's the goal," the nurse, Katie, agreed._

* * *

It takes her three days to find the strength to get out bed.

She'd been so desperate to leave and, now, she has nowhere to go, nothing to do. It's just her and an endless amount of time.

She sits on the balcony of her hotel room for awhile and lets the sun sink into her skin and, then, she goes back inside and goes to sleep.

* * *

 _Lucas is covered in blood when he's escorted back to see her. His eyes are bloodshot, and his clothes are wrinkled from a night spent sitting in a waiting room hoping for news. Though, what really sticks out to her is how terrified he looks. She's not sure that she's ever seen her husband with that particular level of fear in his eyes._

 _"Hey," he leaned down to kiss her forehead, before settling in a chair that was pulled up next to her bed._

 _"I'm so tired," she murmured, as he dug through the pile of blankets to find her hand._

 _"The doctor said that's normal, that it will take you a little while to regain your energy," he explained, his fingers threading through hers._

 _"I don't remember," the lure of sleep pulled at her again, but she forced it back in an effort to get answers, "What happened to me?"_

 _"I came home from work and you were passed out on the kitchen floor, covered in blood, like something straight out of a horror movie," he paused, looking everywhere, but at her, "I got you into the car and drove straight to the ER. They started a blood transfusion, while they were running tests. You lost so much blood and you were so pale."_

 _He paused as his cell phone started ringing and he immediately dug it out of his pocket, "It's your Mom. I'm just going to step out into the hall for a minute."_

 _He answered the phone and she watched him pace back and forth through the glass of her ICU room. A new woman in the same shade of blue scrubs, slipped through the partially open door, pulling it closed behind her and pulling the curtain that ran along the outer wall._

 _"How are you feeling?" she questioned, logging into the computer that sat next to the bed._

 _"Tired," Riley admitted._

 _"That's normal, you'll probably feel out of it for a few days."_

 _"Lucas said that I lost a lot of blood," Riley pressed for answers, wishing that someone would just come out and say what had happened._

 _"We had to transfuse almost twelve units of blood. That's not entirely unheard of, but you're lucky that your husband found you when he did," she replied, scanning a syringe, before turning to face Riley, "This is a blood thinner, our biggest concern after a mass transfusion is blood clots."_

 _"I want to know what happened," Riley pushed, as the woman fastened the syringe onto the end of Riley's IV and pressed the fluid into her arm._

 _"Sometimes, when you get pregnant, the egg doesn't implant in the uterus the way that it's supposed to. It gets stuck inside of the uterine tube, where there's not enough room for it to grow. They call it an ectopic pregnancy. Yours implanted right next to your ovary and when the embryo got too big, it ruptured both your uterine tube and your ovary, causing a massive hemorrhage."_

 _"And the baby?" Riley sunk back into her pillows, as the weight of what the woman was saying sunk in._

 _"It was never a viable pregnancy," the nurse replied, looking incredibly uncomfortable, "Your doctor should be in to round sometimes in the afternoon and he can talk to you about your options and where you go from here."_

 _"Am I going to be able to get pregnant again?" Riley ignored her words; blinking back the tears that were gathering in her eyes._

 _"You still have one ovary and one uterine tube, which means you still have a chance of getting pregnant," the nurse assured her._

 _"But half the chance I had before," Riley finished._

 _"They did everything humanly possible to save your life. You need to just take this one step at a time and the first step is getting you feeling better."_

* * *

The ice clinks inside of the glass and she stares down into the amber liquid daring herself to walk away.

If she doesn't have a problem, she'll have no trouble leaving this glass on the edge of the bar and going back to her hotel room.

If she does, this drink won't be her last.

There's nothing waiting for her at the end of a bottle. She's known this the entire time, though it had never been enough to stop her from looking. There was never an answer to the endless fights with Lucas over fertility treatments, the hours he was putting in at the office, the way she was losing herself in being exactly who she had to be to further his career.

So, she logically knows that she's not going to find the answer to who she is or what she should do now at the bottom of that glass, but, for a while, it could make her forget the questions.

"Those look like some heavy thoughts," a familiar voice offered, settling into the seat beside her.

"What are you doing here, James?" Riley questioned, drink momentarily forgotten.

"I remembered our conversation about the giraffes," James returned, signaling the bartender, "And, so I took a chance. It isn't my fault, you chose the hotel I recommended and the bar right next door."

"There's nothing I can do for you now. I'm done with politics and things are over with my husband," she found herself choking on the words, but forced them out, anyway.

He twisted the cap on the bottled water that he'd ordered and stared intently at the bar in front of them, "I don't think you're done. I know I haven't known you very long, but I like to think that I have some idea of the person that you are. You're, at least, the kind of person who was willing to take up a cause with no personal benefit because it just might be the right thing to do and people like that just don't exist in my world."

"I got drunk and drove my car off a bridge," Riley pointed out.

"Nobody's perfect," he offered, and the corners of her lips pulled up into a smile.

* * *

 _They don't talk on the car ride home, though the silence holds a million words between them._

 _He pulls into the driveway and is halfway around the car to open her door, before she can even get her seatbelt unfastened._

 _"I'm fine. They wouldn't have let me go home if I wasn't fine," Riley reminded him, as he slipped an arm around her waist and guided her towards the front door._

 _"The doctor told you to take it easy," he reminded her, pulling open the screen door and using his free hand to unlock the door, "I haven't had a chance to clean things up, yet, between being at the hospital with you and work."_

 _"I'll take care of it," Riley offered, as she followed him through the front door and paused to survey the puddle of blood that had dried on their brand-new hardwood floors, "Do we still have bleach in the closet?"_

 _"We don't have to do this right now," Lucas argued, "Why don't you lie down, and I'll figure out something for dinner?"_

 _"Because this is going to stain. It's already been sitting for over a week, Lucas. We might have to have it sanded down and refinished," Riley listed, running a hand through her hair and getting it caught in the tangles._

 _"I'm sorry that I was a little more focused on keeping you alive, then on the state of our floors," Lucas's voice was filled with sarcasm and she closed her eyes as she struggled to shove down the anger and despair that had been weighing on her chest, since she'd woken up in that hospital bed._

 _"You signed a consent for sterilization," Riley's voice sounded dead even to her own ears._

 _"They didn't know where the bleeding was coming from, until they got in there. So, they had me sign a lot of things that were a last resort in the effort to save your life," he went on the defensive, his hands bunching into fists at his sides, though his voice remained even._

 _"It's my body. You had no right to sign my reproductive rights away," she felt something inside of her snap._

 _"I had every right to tell them to do everything physically possible to keep you alive. When you married me, I got the right to make decisions for you in the event that you couldn't make them yourself. And anything they had to do would have been worth it to have you here yelling at me, right now," he countered, "You almost bled to death. For a second, I came home and thought you were dead. I can live in a world without a child, Riley. I refuse to live in a world without you."_

 _"We didn't even know that I was pregnant. We didn't get a chance to get excited or plan or fight over the directions for a stupid test," she felt tears build in her eyes and Lucas, hesitantly, bridged the gap between them, seeming to sense that the storm was over._

 _"I'm sorry," he whispered, gently pulling her against his chest, "I'm so sorry, Riles."_

* * *

 **Present**

* * *

"Riley," his hand gently cupped her face and she found herself pulled from the memories that had trapped her.

"It's Maya's funeral, Lucas. We're burying her, today," Riley took a step away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, "My best friend, our best friend, is dead and you want to sit here in the bathroom and talk about what went wrong in our marriage?"

"Am I supposed to believe that you're going to stick around after all of this is over, so that we can talk?" Lucas returned, "You don't exactly have a track record for having difficult conversations."

"There was nothing left to say," Riley offered; knowing the words were just as cheap as they felt coming out of her mouth.

"There was everything left to say. We weren't done and you wouldn't have taken off without saying something if you didn't know that," his eyes blazed with barely controlled fury and she had to shut her own against the intensity of his gaze.

She let his anger radiate through the room for a minute, before she forced herself to open her eyes, "I couldn't be what you needed me to be. You wanted the White House, the title, and the influence and I just wanted to go home. I wanted our life back, but you were never going to forgive me if I made you give all of that up and I couldn't cope with being the drunk, sterile, housewife that had to schedule her appointments through your campaign manager to even get to you."

"I didn't accept the campaign proposal, until you agreed to it. I never would have gone forward if it wasn't something that you wanted," Lucas argued.

"And we would have, what, gone home to Texas? You could have taken your job back at the investment firm, I could have gone back to journalism, and we could have pretended that the house wasn't emptier then what either of us had planned on? I couldn't ask you to give up everything that you worked for, anymore then I could be the wife that you deserved."

"I wasn't the one who was desperate for a baby, Riley. I was happy with what we had, you were always enough for me," Lucas spat, his hands fisting at his sides, "I watched you destroy yourself with all of the shots and the medications and the failed attempts and it killed me, not because you couldn't get pregnant, but because our marriage without a baby was never enough for you."

"Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way," Riley offered, leaving a wide berth of space between them as she headed for the door.

"Do you love him?" his voice held none of the anger from his previous statement, though, she knew, from ten years of marriage that Lucas was the most dangerous when his voice went cold.

"I'm marrying him, aren't I?" she returned, refusing to face him.

He'd know the evasion instantly. It's not the first time she'd used the tactic, it's a favorite of hers. But, when the immediate attack doesn't come, she finds herself slowly turning around to gage his reaction.

His face is blank, his eyes watching her with a level of intensity she hadn't managed to attract in close to a decade. You stop watching someone so closely when you have them, when they're a surety, instead of a possibility. It's easy to become complacent with a sure thing

"I still think about that morning in Switzerland, I dream about it," Lucas started, as though they were in the middle of an entirely different conversation, "We should have stayed. It was all so simple, then."

It didn't surprise her that they shared the same dreams; they shared so many of the same memories that were built out of more years spent together, then apart. For so much of her life she'd believed in soulmates, believed that her and Lucas were meant to be together.

Fate and destiny and free will had become all tangled up in her mind, until she wasn't sure what she really believed, anymore.

But, inevitability, that she knew.

"It wasn't one thing that ruined our marriage, Lucas. It wasn't just the infertility, or just the hours you were spending at work, or just the way I was crumbling under all of the expectations there were for us and the future. It wasn't just that I was unhappy and that I didn't see any future that included any kind of happiness. I woke up from the accident and I, finally, realized how far I'd gone from the person that you married, and I realized that there was no chance of getting that person back. And I felt like this imposter in a life that wasn't meant for me."

"I would have walked away from everything if you'd asked me to," the fact that he still would is left hanging in the air between them and the diamond of her engagement ring bites painfully into the skin of her palm, as she rolls her hand into a fist.

And, then, she asks the question that has the power to change everything.

* * *

 **Here is a massive chapter to make up for the time it has taken me to update. In theory, I knew exactly how this chapter was supposed to look, but trying to balance everything was a nightmare and, then, I decided it needed to be reformatted halfway through and ended up rewriting a lot of it. I had a teacher once tell me that, "Writing is never finished, it is only due," and that's exactly how I felt trying to write this.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I was blown away with the support and it really does motivate me to sit down and force myself to write. I tried to respond to as many as I could, but if I missed you, thank you for continuing to read and for taking the time to write out your thoughts on the last chapter.**

 **Right now, my life is insane between going to school and working a full-time job. Flu season is our busy season at work and, now, we're shifting in to Detoxer season, where everyone is trying to drink the hand-sanitizer, pull out their IV's, and get out of bed unattended (I had a confused patient pull my hair, while six of us were trying to hold him down to put in an IV), so no promises on when I'll get another chapter up, but I promise I'm still around and none of my stories are abandoned.** **This story just happens to have the most already constructed for it. I'm literally going through a word document of prewritten scenes, stringing them together, and editing them, which makes it a lot easier to write for. I have a pretty detailed outline for LOT, which, I think, is actually making it harder to write for and Heat Stroke has a very generic outline with a bunch of ideas for ways that I could take it written in the margins.**

 **Thanks again for reading and I would really love it if you left a review!**


End file.
